PIE - Limey Rivalry (Venturiantale Fanfiction)
by BrandonReed
Summary: After months of boring cases and no action, the partners of P.I.E - Johnny Ghost and Toast - finally get a mysterious and enthralling investigation. However, there is one problem. Another paranormal investigator has to work alongside them. Not only that, but he is more professional, compitant and far more British than Toast could ever be. Is Toast in danger of getting replaced?
1. Part one - A Mundane Series of Drudgery

**P.I.E – Limey Rivalry (Part one – A Part where Nothing Happens)**

It had been nothing but routine operations for the two ghost hunters lately. Well, as "routine" as ghost hunting goes anyway. Granted, there was always success with their latest cases, but no frights or important stakes. They would get a call, travel in Toast's embarrassingly fabulous car – as their normal van had been taken away to get mended after a certain bearded man had taken out his anger at their less than decent job a few months ago – find the ghost and remove it from the premises as fast as a regular pizza delivery would be.

Eventually, the leader of the P.I.E Company – Johnny Ghost – could not take it anymore. Despite the danger and the countless supernatural enemies he must've made, he missed feeling of peril and even the powerful individuals that they have encountered and conquered.

"Three months, Toast!" Ghost fiercely yelled as he threw a dart at photographs of the paranormal entities from many popular cases they went on, while lying upon an old couch that had been part of the office furniture for as long as their company had become officially recognised.

"Yes, sir. I know," Toast responded, already knowing exactly what his young boss was talking about; he had been complaining about the same thing for at least two months.

"Three months and not a single jump scare, or juicy mystery, or returning character. Even the Pokémon ghosts were more entertaining than the cases we're getting now," Ghost continued to verbally vent. He did perk up slightly when he had managed to spear The Toilet Toucher in his private parts, but had returned to his sulky mood soon after.

Toast decided to reject his current task of paying the bills for the office/home that they had found themselves living in. He slowly walked over to the couch where Ghost was continuing to angrily throw darts. Toast noticed that Donald Trump had made it on the "Reoccurring Paranormal Entity" Dart board.

"Come now, Sir. I know things have been getting a little unremarkable at the moment, but we should really be counting our blessings here. After all, we are still alive and in one piece. Not to mention, sir, that we are still getting paid," Toast commented, trying to cheer his partner's morose demeanour.

"I know, Johnny. It's just... I never thought Paranormal Investigating would become so boring," Ghost said glumly, "Do you remember when we were kids, Johnny?"

"No, sir. I'm afraid I can't remember forty-five percent of my own life," Toast said sarcastically.

Ghost looked up at Toast with a sour face, "No. I was talking about when we first wanted to become paranormal investigators. I must have been around six or seven, at the time. When we would creep through the forest at night with my mother's vacuum cleaner, I had never felt so happy. I had so much passion about my future. So much so, I could never wait until we were older and we started going around the neighbours' houses for ghosts.

Toast remembered those moments, himself. They were always little trouble-makers. Toast was thankful that they weren't as forceful as they were back then, otherwise they would surely be behind bars by now.

"Now, look were we are," Ghost raised his arms and drifted them around. Toast clearly understood that he was indicating the office, "We live in a small office with only enough money to live on. Our equipment is mediocre at best. Now, we don't even get the excitement from ghost hunting anymore," Ghost looked down with a defeated look on his face.

Although Toast could not see Ghost's depressed face, he could defiantly tell that his best friend was emotionally wounded due to the crushed voice that sounded like Ghost was about to cry. Toast, being Ghost's beloved colleague and friend, could not stand to see Ghost like this.

Toast crouched down and wrapped his arms around Ghost's head, giving him a hug. Although, due to Ghost lying down on the couch and Toast hugging his head from behind, it was a lot more awkward than Toast had originally intended it to be.

Ghost looked around in vain, his eyes covered by Toast's arms. Toast was also unintentionally crushing Ghost's nose, too. Ghost began to cough and shoved Toast's arms off his head.

"Johnny. What in the world are you doing?" Ghost asked indecently.

Toast was quick to raise his hands in defence, "Sorry, sir. I was just trying to make you feel better and all. I didn't mean to make you uneasy," he quickly warbled.

"That's it. I've had enough," Ghost took this moment to rise, "I'm going for a walk, Toast. Keep the place orderly until I get back."

Toast looked down at the floor after rising back up from his crouched position, "Oh-uh... Right, sir. Yes," he weakly stammered out.

Ghost left and Toast sighed while scuffed his shoes across the dark wooden floor. Toast never knew how to handle Johnny whenever he got mad or upset. Even when he went crazy, Toast could usually get him to be rational again. Yet, whenever it came to comforting Ghost, it would always be inelegant and clumsy.

Toast was interrupted from his brooding be an ear-piercing ringing. Toast first had to cover his ears before he could walk over to the internal contraption that was the office phone. Toast hated it for its huge volume. It always managed to scare the life out of him whenever it rang. Toast chuckled to himself before picking it up; he can handle ghosts, demons, gnomes and animatronics without an audible yelp, yet an office phone gets him frightened.

Toast picked up the phone, not really predicting anything too great. He expecting it to be another call from Spooker or a death-threat from one of the Acachallas. Still, he had to keep that British formalness, otherwise where would P.I.E be.

"Hello, this is P.I.E – Paranormal Investigators Extraordinaire. How can I help you?" Toast asked and waited for a reply.


	2. Part two - A Golden Opportunity

**P.I.E – Limey Rivalry (Part two – A Golden Opportunity)**

Shifting his clothing, so it was more comfortable, Johnny Ghost trudged through the empty streets. His morose features were constantly lit up by the streetlights overhead. His shoulders were risen and he was peering down at the floor.

He wasn't entirely sure where he was going, but he was confident that he could find his way back to the headquarters whenever he wanted. He knew the local area well, despite never spending very long there. His career lead to him and Toast travelling to many places around the country, perhaps even other dimensions on some cases. Although, those were scarce now. Nowadays, they mostly remain in Littlebutts N.C.

Ghost sighed heavily, spotting his own condensing breath soaring into the open air before dissipating. Ghost became aware of the temperature and coughed. He hadn't realised how ill he felt; his throat felt sore and his eyes stung. Perhaps he needed to sleep more hours, or something. Ghost found this surprising; for the past three months, their cases have been quick, easy and only ever occurred once in a blue moon. How can he still be working over the necessary limit‽

Coughing again, he took a minute to sit down, finding public benches placed facing a children's playground.

Ghost chuckled slightly as he imagined Toast insisting to play on the slide. Ghost didn't understand how Toast, at his age, still enjoyed going to children's playgrounds whenever he saw one. Ghost always blamed Toast's childhood and family for it, though he never actually found a reason why he thought that.

Leaning his head back on the bench until he could see the night sky, Ghost pondered about his eccentric British companion. He thought about most of his behaviour often, seeing as Toast did many things that baffled Ghost. On top of his obsession with slides, Toast had some other weird habits. The pointless puns, the British disco, and the way he humours their job far too much. It was probably Toast's British quirky charm. Regardless, it always irritated Ghost when his partner would place his flashlight on his rear-end and pretend to be a firefly while they were on a highly important case. Then again, those days seemed like distant memories for Ghost.

Nowadays, Toast was always business. How ironic that he can be _Fun-and-Games_ while their lives were at stake, but somehow serious when all they had to deal with were phantoms and overreacting customers. Ghost was surprised that he had wound up missing Toast's unprofessionalism.

Another breathy exhale later, Ghost's phone began to hum. It was awkward to reach into his tight jean due to the position he was in, but he eventually grabbed the phone and saw what it hummed for. It was a text from Toast. Ghost took a second until reading it. It read, "JOHNNY, COME BACK. YOU WON'T REGRET IT."

Ghost looked over the message again and then checked if there were any other messages he left. After spotting that Toast only left one message, Ghost huffed. _Why couldn't he told me why_ , Ghost thought.

Nevertheless, Ghost decided to return to the headquarters and trotted back the way he had come. His hands were planted firmly in his pockets as he sped walked. His right hand was caressing his phone within the pocket, in case it hummed again. He took his phone out to check the time: it was quarter-to-nine o'clock.

"Great," Ghost mumbled quietly to himself, "If this takes long, we'll be facing another late night again."

Usually, Ghost didn't care about his sleeping habits. However, recently, his body had been feeling rundown and Ghost linked it to his sleep. Although, it was probably more to do with his current pessimistic attitude.

Either way, Ghost was not in the mood to hear anything Toast had to say. Ghost thought to himself, " _This better be good_."

Ghost arrived back at the headquarters. His nose had also appeared to be acting up; it was clogged and Ghost had to breathe through his mouth. He swore to himself, he was going to die very soon if he didn't do something.

Entering through the door and facing the office again, Ghost concluded that it looked just as dreary as ever. Perhaps they should decorate it a bit more: like cover the blank walls with more than a dart board and pieces of newspapers, or repaint, or perhaps even change the furniture; it may lift his mood to see more colours than dark browns and greys.

Ghost needed to peer around to see Toast, who was to his left. He was sitting at the desk, searching through the office computer with an amount of vigour that Ghost found surprising.

Having not been greeted or acknowledged, Ghost spoke up, "Okay, Johnny. I'm here. Can I know what was so important, now?" he bitterly asked.

Toast didn't waste a second before raising up from his seat and grabbing Ghost by the arms. He looked down at his partner excitingly, and spoke, "Sir, your prays have been answered."

Ghost needed a second to consider what that meant, "Toast, what are you talking about," He asked blankly.

"A case, sir," Toast responded, "an exciting, dangerous, mysterious, enthralling, gripping case. A case filled with action and intrigue. The best case we've gotten in months. A change from our current predicament, sir. A golden opportunity," Toast happily declared poetically.

Ghost took another second to understand what Toast was saying. It sounded like a return to the old days. Ghost immediately brightened up, "Johnny, are you serious?"

"Of course," Toast said, "Look."

Toast lead Ghost to the computer that he was looking at a minute ago. It was filled with information regarding the same place, as Ghost saw pictures of identical large mansion on every news article and website.

Toast opened up an email that had previously been hidden underneath all the other open windows.

"I received a call just after you left, sir. There was a woman on the other line. She just gave the name Miss Gumball, no one I knew. Supposedly, though, she said she lives in Littlebutts N.C. herself. Anyway, she asked for our email address, as she only knew our phone number and felt it more necessary to express her concern via email. So I told her and hung up. Then I waited for the email she was obviously writing. This is it, sir. It reads:

' _Dear Paranormal Investigators Extraordinaire,  
I am asking you, in the form of this email, to help me. I fear that my home has been overrun be some paranormal entity/entities. It has caused my home to become unpredictable and I am scared that I or someone else may be harmed. –'"_

"Johnny, this sounds just like any other customer," Ghost interrupted Toast's transcription.

"Well sir," Toast responded, "if you'll let me read on, I'll get to the interesting part."

After hearing no objections, Toast continues reading,

"' _I live in a very large house; my family was sort of successful, once upon a time. I inherited a mansion that my grandmother used to live in. I was not very worried about supernatural happenings, since I have always been a little sceptical._ –'"

Ghost scoffed slightly at the statement. People not believing in ghosts always amused him.

Toast, after being interrupted twice, continued again,

"' _However, lately, I've been hearing weird noises (like moans and heavy breaths), seen claw marks on the walls and have this feeling as though I'm being watched._ –'"

"Okay, it's getting better. It doesn't seem like the best case, but it does sound promising," Ghost commented again.

"' _Not to mention, there is the basement. It is the only part of the house that I have not seen. I don't know why, but every time I try, some instinctual urge forces me to flee as far away from it as possible. This wouldn't seem too bad, if it wasn't for the fact that most of the noises I've mentioned before are concentrated near there. I am seriously scared that there may be some sort of creature or supernatural being is down there, especially since it seems to leave claw marks on the walls at night. This means that not only can it be dangerous, but it is walking in the same corridors that I do._

"' _Please come and find out what it happening, I'm begging you._ '"

Toast finally finished and saw that Ghost was on the edge of his seat, his eyes glistening.

"Then she left the house address at the end of the email," Toast continued to explain, "I've spent the time since you've got here looking up the place."

"So what sort of place is it," Ghost asked, sounding a lot more chipper.

"Apparently, it is an estate that was built around 1896. It was the home of the family of a wealthy mining company. They were distant from much of the public eye, but most people said they were _a peculiar bunch_ ," Toast explained, "This _grandmother_ , that our concerned customer is talking about, would be Mrs Fiona Gumball: the wife of Alexander Gumball and the daughter of a man called Ifan Davies."

"So what do you think, Toast," Ghost asked. He had a small, but noticeable smile on his face and Toast felt content after months of worrying about his depressed partner.

"I think that it is worth checking out, sir."

"Excellent. Johnny, get the equipment and the car ready. It's time we set off" Ghost stood and waited for Toast to shift. However, Toast remained still.

"Sir, don't you think it would be better to wait until morning. After all, it would be dangerous to investigate while drowsy – not to mention, drive."

Ghost huffed, "Fine. _Let's go to bed instead_ ," Ghost moaned, "First thing in the morning though, we are heading straight out."

"Certainly, sir. I can't wait," Toast walked over to his part of the office.

"Neither can I, Toast. Neither can I."


	3. Part three - Toast's Blunder

**P.I.E Limey Rivalry – Part Three**

Roaring across the road, like a jaguar, Toast's fabulous convertible sped down the main road. The partners had just left the city centre and were now driving through the suburbs. They still needed to travel a considerable way, since the address that they were going to was on the outskirts of Littlebutts.

Before then, Johnny Ghost had been too excited to sleep in. He immediately shot out of the bed (which could fold back into the couch), alerted Toast (mostly by yelling ecstatically) and getting ready to leave faster than Toast had ever expected him to. Ghost was always sluggish in the mornings.

Toast didn't mind the graceless wakeup call, though; he was still happy to see that Ghost had returned to his animated, chirpy self again. Although, a thought did cross Toast's mind before he went to sleep the night before: _What if this case isn't as great as Ghost expects? What if it's a prank call, or an elaborate hoax? Perhaps it could simply be an animal stuck in the basement_. Toast's stomach tightened at the thought of Ghost's disappointment. He imagined Ghost absolutely losing himself. Toast had been wishing throughout the whole day: _Please, be a good case. Please, be a good case._

Ghost was shifting around in the passenger chair, looking over the equipment that Toast had gathered before they left.

"You definitely brought everything that we may need, right Johnny?" Ghost asked.

"Yes, sir," Toast responded, not taking his eyes off the road.

"The static meter?"

"Check."

"The EMF meters?"

"Check."

"The motion sensor digital camera? That's an important one."

"Sir, believe me, I left the closet close to bare when I packed. I got the first aid kit, the listening devices, and the walkie-talkies. I even brought the Ouija Board, on your insistence. –"

"Hey. Ghosts get bored too, y'know. That is in case they just want a play," Ghost interrupted Toast's listing.

Toast decided to wrap it up, "I can assure you, without a doubt, we have everything we need," Toast reassured Ghost.

"Okay," Ghost said and he laid back into his seat. He enjoyed the scenery for a view seconds before acting up again, "What about the flashlights?"

Toast remained silent, but held his breath and remained motionless as if he was hiding. Toast realised how stupid that idea was as soon as he started doing it, but kept doing it for some reason.

Ghost obviously noticed Toast's uncommunicativeness and turned to face him. His face, from what Toast could make out within his peripheral vision, was not amused.

"…Johnny," Ghost asked his partner, who was now pale from unease.

Toast remained absolutely still, though he did make a faint "Hmm?" that was meant to mean "Yes, what is it?"

Ghost asked, wearing a serious expression and glaring at Toast, "Did you forget the flashlights?"

Toast swallowed a lump within his throat and slowly turned his head to his interrogative colleague, while still observing the road ahead of them. Toast knew that there was no way he could lie about anything and have it believed now.

Eventually, he sighed, "I'm sorry, sir. They m-must have been left in the draws."

Toast remembered the last time they had done an investigation with the flashlights. It must have been around three weeks ago. Their cases were few and far between, after all. Although, Toast definitely recalled chucking the tools in question into one of the draws instead of the usual spot in the closet. Toast remembered the reason why he had done it too; he were seriously drunk, at the time.

Toast examined Ghost's face shortly before he started talking again. His angry mug did not change very much, "Johnny! Are you serious‽"

Toast grimaced at Ghost's ferocity, but didn't protest against anything and allowed him to continue scolding him, "How do you expect us to investigate a basement without flashlights? I can only assume light in a basement is close to non-existent. How could you have forgotten one of the most vital piece of equipment?"

Racking his mind for an explanation, Toast gave up and tried to offer a solution, "Perhaps we can ask for one while we're there. It is a large place. I'm sure there must be something there that we can use."

Ghost inhaled sharply; he clearly needed a lot of air for his next few statements, "Johnny… Need I remind you that we are _professional_ paranormal investigators? What would it look like, if we asked for such basic appliances?"

Toast looked down at the steering wheel of his convertible, which had just been pulled over to prevent any accidents, "I-I'm sorry, sir. I swear, I didn't mean to be so unprofessional," he said, sounding quite emotionally distressed.

Ghost was still angry, but his aggressiveness had dwindled down for the time being. Ghost was mad for an appropriate reason; this was their first real case in months and Ghost was really looking forward to it. He wanted everything to be perfect: his arrival, his greeting, their investigating and a successful capture. However, from what Ghost could imagine, they would appear like amateurs with no flashlights. This could seriously affect their credibility.

Ghost huffed, "It doesn't matter. It's too late to turn back. Just keep going," he leaned against the window and didn't even look in Toast's direction.

Toast's eyes slightly glazed over, but he blinked it away as soon as he noticed. Above anything else, Toast hated being incompetent, especially when Ghost was the one he was working with. He liked behaving unorthodox during some of their serious cases, because it was a coping mechanism. Despite Ghost's mild annoyance at times, Toast never saw anything too unacceptable. On the other hand, when he made mistakes that made his younger partner seriously mad at him, Toast could not take it.

He started the car again and set off, though the environment was dramatically different from how it was a few minutes ago. The atmosphere seemed too still and the air seemed thick enough to chew. There was no more communication for rest of the trip.

Eventually, they finally arrived at the house. Well, house wasn't the right word. It seemed almost like a palace on first glance. Both Ghost and Toast's mouths opened slightly as they took in the estate. Granted, they had been to mansions before, but this one was defiantly the largest and best kept one out of them all. The walls of the exterior were a soft pink colour. The door seemed higher than Toast's convertible was long. There was a fancy fountain firing fresh water in the drive, which the two paranormal investigators were parking in. There must have been about thirty windows on the one side of the building alone.

In contrast, there was a rather cheap, modern car, plus another black van, parked in the drive.

Toast parked away from the other two vehicles, so they could get out without having to worry about minor collisions.

When they were firmly planted on the gravelled driveway, Ghost immediately got out to get a better look of the place. He stood near the fountain, which was placed at the centre of the drive so cars can circulate around, and gazed up at the front of the building in awe. Toast joined him after a short while.

"Johnny, this place is amazing," Ghost slowly murmured to Toast.

"I know. I hadn't realised it was still in a decent state of repair. I had expected it to be rundown or something," Toast said slowly.

"I guess Miss Gumball didn't want to live in a run-down wreck, like our other clients," Ghost offered.

"Anyway, we should probably try the door; she might be watching us standing out here like buffoons," Toast said, making Ghost straighten up and cough slightly.

"Oh, yes, you're right, Johnny. C'mon," Ghost led Toast to the door with a slight quickness to his step.

After a knock or two on the impressively massive door, the two of them waited for a long while. There didn't seem to be any movement from the other side. The two were getting fidgety; Ghost was looking around for any evidence that someone was here and Toast was checking the time to make sure they were not untimely.

At last, the massive door began to open and they tried to make themselves look as presentable as possible.

A small, female head poked out from behind one of the doors. She seemed meek and middle-aged, from what they could see of her. She had small glasses that were connected to her neck around a chain, and Toast immediately acknowledged them as reading glasses. When she stood out from behind the door, they examined her body as well as her head. She wore a light green jumper and grey trousers. The clash of colours made Toast cringe for a second.

"I assume you're the ones who call themselves… P.I.E, yes?" the woman asked.

"Yes, that's right. Paranormal Investigators _Extraordinaire_ , at your service," Ghost introduced the two of them, "I assume you're Miss Gumball."

"Indeed, I am. Miss Sophia Gumball, _at your service_ ," she said, being deliberately condescending towards Ghost's introduction. She even bowed to them. Toast laughed at Ghost's expense.

Sophia signalled them to come in, "Come in. You can join the other one in the dining room. Do you want tea or coffee, by the way?"

Ghost stopped in his tracks, thinking he had misheard her, "S-sorry, Miss. What was that about a-another one?" he asked shakily.

"Oh," Sophia said, turning to the other two, "I went to the liberty of contacting two companies. I picked one first, but thought he might not show – considering he came from abroad, so I contacted you after."

Ghost trembled and he took an insecure breath. He had just been told that they were the second choice. Even though P.I.E was located in the exact same area. Were they really that insignificant at this point? They were famous, once upon a time. Why weren't they the first choice, now?

Ghost felt a hand rest itself on his shoulder. He peered up at Toast, who gave him a reassuring smile. Ghost was puzzled as to how Toast seemed to know what he was thinking, but ignored it and accepted the assurance.

They entered the dining room to see whom this supposed " _other person_ " was. They completely ignored the room's overly large size and aristocratic furniture.

Sitting close to the entrance, on one of the many chairs, was a man who seemed rather youthful. The first real thing they noticed was his clothing; he wore a light bluish grey shirt – with a black tie, a grey cardigan to go over the top of it and a grey fedora to match. He was helping himself to some tea from a fancy cup that was obviously not his own. His hair, from what they could see under the hat, was a mousy blonde colour. He had a bit of stubble which could only have grown after a day or two of no shaving. He eyed them over when they walked in. His eyes appeared to be brown. He sat down on the chair with a relaxed and self-assured posture.

He turned toward the three, as Sophia hadn't moved since they entered, and spoke to no one person in particular with a British accent that rivalled Toast's own, "At last, the budding dabblers arrive."


	4. Part four - A Klutzy Introduction

**P.I.E Limey Rivalry – Part Four**

The foreign man rose from his chair with a delighted expression. He held himself with a rare amount of self-confidence, which was lacking in so many paranormal investigators. His outfit was probably helping his sense of aplomb; Ghost would never be seen with such an 'out there' wardrobe and Toast – while wearing his typical shirt and waistcoat – never usually kept it as neat and tidy as he could have.

He made his way over to the two 'Johnnys' and began to shake Ghost's hand. He began talking enthusiastically, though neither of them were particularly listening. Toast hazarded a guess, assuming this unknown man was saying it was a pleasure to meet the two of them, or was just rambling about nothing important. Ghost, despite having his own arm shaken up and down – the man hadn't let him go yet – did not react. Nor was he aware of anything that was happening around him.

Ghost felt like there was a raging storm within his own head; he was thinking about so many things so fast. According to Sophia, this bizarre British man was her first choice. Who was this person, if he was so special that he was the go-to choice before paranormal investigators within the same neighbourhood?

After a solid twenty seconds of Ghost and Toast not talking, the man looked at Sophia for some sort of explanation. She was obviously as confused as he was and the man began to click his fingers in front of their faces. That snapped them out of their internal battles and they returned to the land of the living.

The man spoke again quizzically, though wearing a smirk, "Are you alright, sir? You looked as though you saw a _ghost_." He started snickered to himself at his less than impressive joke.

"Y-yes. We're fine," Ghost answered shakily. His mind was still woozy. He turned to his partner, asking urgently, "Toast, can I have a word with you for a minute?"

Without an answer, Ghost sped off with Toast close by, leaving the man and Sophia alone in the room.

"…Well," the man said loudly whilst simultaneously clapping his hands together, "Whilst they're preoccupied, I should really start my investigation." He turned to Sophia, who was perplexed over what had just transpired. "Sophia, was it– Do you mind me calling you 'Sophia'?" he asked innocently.

"Umm, yes. _Sophia_ 's fine," she responded, finding it odd to use her own name.

"Excellent," He said and sat back down on the chair he came from. He tapped the chair next to his own, instructing her to sit. She timidly moved to the chair he had suggested and sat down. The man spoke again, "Tell me about the place. Anything you know, or anything you've been told."

Ghost was hyperventilating outside. He would've done anything for a brown paper bag. Toast, meanwhile, was rubbing his back.

"Sir, I need you to calm down," Toast advised his panicked partner, "you and me both know that we can't work officially when you're like this."

"What's the point," Ghost angrily responded, "We weren't wanted for this case, anyway."

Toast was taken aback by Ghost's outrage, causing him to continue, "You heard her. He was her first choice and we were the backup."

Looking away, Toast gently warned Ghost, "Don't say stuff like that."

Ghost either didn't hear Toast or didn't care, because he continued ranting, "It barely surprises me that an upscale woman like that would want penniless hooligans like us in her house when she has that _fetching gentleman_ to help her. Who are we kidding anymore, Toast?"

Ghost's voice cracked and he turned away from Toast, looking intently on the fountain ahead of him. Despite Ghost looking the other way, Toast could sense that he was tearing up. "Sir. Please… Don't be like this," Toast advised weakly. He kicked himself for being so bad at emotional support, "C'mon, sir… We came all the way here and… I'm sure that we'll still be needed. I'm sure."

"Yeah, right. Toast, we don't even have flashlights, thanks to you," Toast looked down to the floor when his mistake was resurfaced, "As if she's still going to want us when she has someone else. It's like they say, Toast: two's company, three's a crowd."

Toast and Ghost spent the next short while standing there, absolutely silent. The only noise came from the trees; the wind was picking up. It also seemed to be cloudy too. Toast considered putting the roof up on his convertible, but Ghost's sudden movements distracted him before he could follow through with his idea.

Ghost turned to face the door and slowly walked towards it, with a huff, "I suppose we should stay. I'd hate to have travelled here for nothing. C'mon Toast."

Toast followed gleefully, happy to see that Ghost had not entirely given up.

They both returned to the dining room, where the man and Sophia were still siting. They were having a discussion, from what Ghost could see. The man stopped talking when he noticed the two entering the room for a second time. He cheerfully greeted the two of them by raising a hand and giving a large smile, "Ah, it's nice to see you again. I trust you had a fulfilling ' _word_ '," he asked while directly quoting what Ghost had previously said.

When he noticed the faint redness of Ghost's eyes, along with the evidence of tears on his cheeks, the man's expression changed, his eyes softened and he cleared his throat before changing the subject, "I should probably go over some things with you." He leaned back in his chair and looked up at the ceiling.

Without any worded go-ahead, he decided to recap regardless, "Whilst you were outside, I've been probing Mrs Gumball for information. I asked her about her connection to the family – whether she knew them closely or not – and she said she was related through marriage and not through blood. I then asked why someone who was actually related to the family didn't inherit the place instead of her," he placed his hand on Sophia's shoulder whenever he used her name or a pronoun relating to her. "She said that there weren't any blood relations. They had all died through one way or another, along with her husband – who died a few years back due to decease – and her sister-in-law – who went missing and a body was never found."

Ghost and Toast, while still in a gloomy mood, did take notes about the information. Toast was surprised that he had managed to absorb that much information and relay it without needing to rethink.

Ghost perked up at what the man was saying, "That is a clear connection. Do you think it connects with the possible entity – or entities – here?"

The man replied, as if he knew Ghost was going to ask that, "I also spotted that. So I had also asked Sophia about what she knew of the Gumball family. Supposedly, they only became wealthy due to their coal mining business. Before then, they were mostly poor and unsuccessful. According to the sources I found on the internet, The Gumball mining company was founded in 1885. They developed mild success for a few years before suddenly booming in 1888. The company was owned by Alexander Gumball –"

"The husband of Fiona Gumball, the woman who owned the estate before Sophia," Ghost blabbed, interrupting the man.

"Exactly," the man said, clearly not annoyed by Ghost's interruption, "to cut a long story short, the mining company lost most of its popularity many years after and officially went bankrupt in 1955. Despite that, Mrs Fiona Gumball, without her husband, managed to live out her life without many hardships, using the money the company had once earned to get by. She died relatively recently."

"Do you think she's the one haunting the place?" Ghost asked, arranging the information into patterns and groups within his head.

"It is a possibility. A likely one, too. She never reported anything out of the ordinary to the officials when she was alive, as far as I know."

"But if everyone in the Gumball family died, why didn't she die until recently?"

"Let's not forget, Sophia's husband died but she didn't. Why… Because she was only a Gumball through marriage and not genetically related. Likewise, Fiona was only the wife of a Gumball. Therefore, she would have been unaffected by this _family curse_."

"Why do you think members of the Gumball family are dying, anyway?"

"That alludes me, unfortunately."

Toast and Sophia watched the two men bounce ideas off one another. Sophia was impressed by their quick thinking and investigative abilities. She had a sneaking suspicion that she had chosen the right people for the job. Toast, on the other hand, felt slightly uncomfortable. Usually, he had gotten involved with something – whether it be interrogating the client or coming up with hypothesises with Ghost – but those had both been done and Toast felt like dead weight at that moment.

The two of them turned their heads, in perfect unison, to look at Sophia. Likewise, they both said, "We need to see the basement," in the same firm tone. Sophia gracelessly made her way out of the dining room and the others prepared to follow.

Ghost suddenly realised that he still didn't know this man's name, nor did he ever introduce himself. "What was your name again," he asked.

The man gave a toothy smile and held out his hand, "Bryn. Bryn Underhill – Supernatual Examiner Connoisseur.


	5. Part five A Flourishing Acquaintanceship

**P.I.E – Limey Rivalry (Part five – A Rational Separation)**

A deep audible screech emanated from the hinges of the basement door as it turned open. It was more of a trapdoor that had been placed into the corner of the house. This meant that the four living people had to walk through the entire ground floor of the estate to get to it. No one complained about this, since most of them wanted to see more of this illustrious palace regardless.

Sophia was one of the most focused people there, since she lived there and had gotten used to most of the architecture. She was more concerned about getting to the basement and letting the men do their jobs.

Toast, while also being impressed by how large and grand every room was, did keep himself very composed. After all, he was part of a rich family. It hadn't been the first time he had been to an authentic mansion. Although, not even his family's estates were as good as this one.

Ghost and Bryn were walking close by. They were both dawdling. Ghost would give a breathy "whoa" every time they moved onto the next room, while Bryn would turn his entire body around to look at each room – although he never stopped walking whenever he did. Bryn kept his hands in his pockets, too.

Toast, when peering over his shoulder to look at the two of them, thought that they were getting along brilliantly. They seemed to be very alike, though Ghost wasn't as fast-talking as Bryn was. The way they shared their theories and spoke to one another was so skilful and slick. Any other person would have assumed they were the partners.

When the basement door was open, the three investigators (or two investigators and one examiner) peered down. They couldn't see a thing, but the steps leading to the basement had to be long. The steps, along with the walls surrounding them, were made of stone. Toast, being to closest to the opened door, felt cool air lick at his exposed arms. He shivered slightly, gaining goose bumps.

Ghost noticed Toast's behaviour, but misinterpreted it, "You aren't scared already. Are you Johnny?"

Toast turned to Ghost, ready to defend himself. But before he could, Bryn placed himself between the two partners and spoke to Ghost, "What do you think? Would it be safe to go down and explore?"

Ghost looked up at Bryn confusedly, "I'd assume so. Why?"

"Well, if Sophia is correct," Bryn looked over to Sophia, who was standing far away from the rest of them, clearly unnerved, "then most of the paranormal activity is coming from the basement. It isn't out of the question that an entity doesn't want us to be down here. After all, Sophia did say that some instinct is forcing her to stay away from the basement."

Ghost looked genuinely thoughtful, but shrugged "It hasn't been the first time I've gone somewhere a ghost didn't want me to. We should go down."

"Understood," Bryn said. He took his left hand out of his trouser pocket, revealing a small flashlight.

Ghost suddenly became aware that he and Toast were without lights. "Umm – Actually, on second thought," Ghost yelled quickly, grabbing hold of Bryn's shoulder to stop him proceeding, "perhaps we can send a camera down there. Y'know, like a drone."

Bryn, while being confused about Ghost's sudden burst, considered his idea. He thought for a few seconds, before commenting, "I do have something that may come in handy."

Bryn arose, "Ghost, could you help me with this?" Ghost agreed, though he still didn't exactly know what Bryn was talking about. Toast was about to follow, until Bryn turned to him, "Could you stay there and make sure nothing bad happens while we're gone?"

Toast never verbally agreed, but they were gone before he had time to argue. He huffed slightly to himself before leaning against a wall and peering into the dark void.

Granted, he was pleased to know that Ghost was happy again, but the whole situation felt weird. Ever since they walked into the dining room for the second time, Ghost had barely said a single thing to Toast. Toast wasn't even sure if he had even been acknowledged aside from when Ghost asked him if he was scared. Usually, on cases like this: Toast and Ghost would interrogate the client, they'd explore the area together, and they'd find a considerable amount of evidence and formulate sound hypothesises based upon the evidence. Although, over three months ago, when their cases were actually good, the ghosts would usually come out of hiding before anyway. Regardless, Toast felt a bit redundant at that moment.

Meanwhile, Bryn and Ghost had finally made it to the front entrance that they had previously entered. Bryn was not out of breath at all, despite jogging the distance twice as fast as Ghost. Ghost, on the other hand, was panting deeply and was red in the face. He made a mental note to get fit after this.

Bryn checked the time and allowed Ghost to cool down. It had just past the third hour. Bryn also noticed the weather; the entire sky was cloudy. He decided to make this quick.

"So what did we come out here for again," Ghost asked as soon as he was able to stop wheezing.

"I went to the liberty of bringing some of my equipment with me," Bryn said. He trotted to the black van that Ghost had previously seen.

Ghost followed Bryn down to his van, "So… Can I call you 'Bryn'?" Ghost hadn't referred to Bryn by his name yet and he wasn't sure if Bryn would mind.

"If you want to call me 'Mr. Underhill', I won't stop you," Bryn said nonchalantly. He turned to Ghost and smiled, "Yes, you can call me 'Bryn'."

Ghost made light conversation as Bryn opened the doors to his van, "Y'know Bryn, it seems weird that you drive around in a van like this."

"What do you mean?" Bryn asked, rummaging through his thing.

"Well, you seem to be wearing very bright clothing," Ghost said, causing Bryn to examine his attire, "Yet, you drive in a normal black van. It just seems to mismatch, to me."

Bryn smiled and got out of his van, holding a plain box, "I've noticed. I didn't actually want a van; I thought they were too typical. Then again, I presumed it was important not to have a vehicle that stood out too much. A van is also very good for storage when I take my equipment with me."

Ghost nodded his head in understanding. Then he noticed Bryn looking behind him at something. "I see that you're not too concerned about anonymity," he stated as he pointed to something.

Ghost followed Bryn's finger and saw that he was talking about Toast's convertible. Ghost quickly began to defend himself, "Oh no – no. That's… Umm – that's not really ours. That's just temporary. Our actual van is being mended."

"Whatever you say, Ghost," Bryn said. The two men made their way back into the house after Bryn had locked his van up again.

Ghost stopped to consider what Bryn had just said and stopped suddenly. He had never told Bryn his name. "I didn't tell you my name, did I?" Ghost asked, puzzled.

"No, you didn't," Bryn replied while continuing to slowly walk away from Ghost, "But I knew about P.I.E before this assignment."

Ghost was stunned. He checked to make sure he had heard Bryn correctly. Bryn already knew about them. How?

"Are you coming," Bryn called from the door frame, "I wouldn't want to keep Sophia and your partner waiting any longer."

Joyously, Ghost responded, "Of course _Mr. Underhill_ ," before happily trotting up the stairs with a refreshed amount of energy.


	6. Part six - A Rational Separation

**P.I.E – Limey Rivalry (Part six – A Partner Astray)**

Toast and Sophia hadn't moved in ten minutes. The entire room had a silent and uncomforting atmosphere. Toast was getting tired of looking into the devoid emptiness. Though he was not scared of anything that might be down there, he was still nonetheless cheerless about having to guard it either.

Sophia, on the other hand, was fidgeting where she sat. She had gotten tired of standing and there was a table, along with three chairs, already in the room. So she decided to take advantage of that.

She was clearly frightened about the basement door being left open. Usually, whenever she went near it, she would panic and rush out of the room. She could hardly bare seeing the murky blackness behind those previously locked doors.

Ghost and Bryn returned to the room. They had decided to walk, so Ghost wouldn't get tired again and so whatever Bryn was carrying was secure within his hands.

Toast, upon noticing the relatively small box under Bryn's left arm, irritatingly said, "Is that it?"

The two men, looked at Toast confusingly. Bryn answered, "If you're referring to this," he lifted the box up, "then yes. Why?"

Toast looked at the two of them, bewildered, "If all you needed was that small box, then why did you need Ghost to go with you?" Toast had suspected them to do some heavy lifting, which would explain why Bryn would need a hand. If all he needed was something that small, why did he request Ghost to accompany him?

Bryn tittered toward Toast, "I can assure you, I did not need to get _a box_. You see, Toast – was it, there's actually something inside the box. That was what we need."

Bryn held the blank cardboard box in his hands. Suddenly, he turned his attention to Sophia, who was watching everything with an uneasy posture. "Sophia," he said, causing the woman in question to jump at the use of her name. "If you are feeling uneasy at all, don't feel that you have to be here. If you want to allow us to get on with everything, go ahead."

Sophia gulped, "T-thank you." She then arose and headed as quickly as she could out of the room.

As she passed the two men standing at the entrance of the room, Ghost turned his attention back to the previous issue. "Actually, Bryn, you never did tell me what was in the box," Ghost said.

Toast clenched his jaw at being ignored again. He still hadn't been told why Bryn had taken Ghost for no apparent reason.

"Oh, did I not," Bryn said innocently, "Well, good. Now, it can be a surprise."

Toast's mouth hung open at _Bryn_. This man was meant to be a professional, yet he had been wasting time constantly. Toast began to suspect something: why would he apparently need Ghost to help him if he only needed a small item?

Bryn placed the box down and began to open it. Once it had been opened, he began to take certain parts out and assemble them with brilliant expertise.

Ghost watched him intently. Toast pretended to cough, in order to get his partners attention. It didn't seem to be effective, so Toast began to give off a loud "psst". Ghost rose his head to look at his partner, who called him over.

Ghost stepped over to Toast, with a puzzled look. "Yeah, Toast. What is it?" he asked to his older partner.

"I see you've gotten to first name bases with him," Toast said, looking over to Bryn, "What were you doing with him outside?"

"Nothing, really. We got out, we talked, he got the box and we went back in," he listed. Suddenly, he looked at Toast excitedly, "Hey, get this, Toast. It turns out that Bryn already knew about us."

Toast cocked his head to the side, "What?"

"Yeah," Ghost continued, recounting the conversation that he and Bryn had as they were walking back through the house, "remember when he was shaking my hand when we first met? Well, it turns out he was saying how happy he was to finally meet us. He's been following our work for years, Toast."

Toast was surprised to know this. Usually, they stayed out of the public eye often. The fact that Bryn was British and – according to Sophia – lived abroad should've made it harder to find information about them. They had both tried researching themselves before, but not more than a few news articles and their commercial had been uncovered. Perhaps Bryn just knew where to look, but Toast found that unlikely.

Bryn whistled toward the duo, gaining their attention. "Voilà," he said, gesturing to whatever he had finished assembling.

I seemed to be a remote control car, as there was a controller adjacent to it. After a more thorough inspection, they saw that the wheels of the device were massive – the diameter of each wheel was longer than the actual height of the main body. The device's body seemed very slim. I had a light built into it and what everyone could also make out to be a camera. When Bryn picked up the remote and started to control the centre of everyone's attention, they could all see that the camera and the light could be manipulated and turned around.

Bryn happily stated, "I present to you: my spy car." He continued to parade it around, "As you can see, it is a remote controlled device with a wireless camera and light. It is also built with microphones to detect sound. The camera itself has night-vision, as well as using the light to see. The camera, much like ones on typical drones, send the information it receives and displays it on a small monitor." He then took the monitor he was talking about out of the box, leaving it empty. He continued talking, "Thanks to the tires and shock absorbers, it will not break due to moderate collisions or falling. Not to mention, since the camera can be manipulated, it can even be turned around completely. Basically, even if it gets flipped over, the tires will still turn and the camera can move to the side that is upwards. This should be a rather suitable scout, wouldn't you agree?"

Ghost looked at Bryn in awe, while Toast just hummed and looked away. Despite the fact that the device was rather impressive, Toast tried not to be too impressed. He didn't want to be impressed; it may cloud his thinking. Ghost seemed to be too dazzled to comprehend Bryn's confusing story.

"Yeah. It is great," Ghost answered. "I'd love to see it work."

"Well then," Bryn said as he drove the car to the entrance of the basement. He then allowed it to drive in. As soon as it got over the first step, it began to tumble down violently, creating unpromising clattering noises as it did. Eventually, it was lost from view and became part of the inky blackness.

Ghost peered over Bryn to see the monitor, while Toast remained where he was. On the monitor, there was nothing. Bryn had to activate the light, which revealed that the car was upside-down. As promised, Bryn turned the camera to the upward side and sent the car forward.

Nothing seemed too out of the ordinary; the room itself was pretty small compared to what they were inspecting. From what Bryn and Ghost could make out, the walls seemed to be made out of stone, as did the floor. It also appeared to be mostly empty, beside a few crates. "We need to check those, later," Bryn murmured to Ghost, who nodded at the advice.

The view was limited, so the car needed to be manoeuvred around to get a good view of its whereabouts. This took longer that they had expected.

Bryn, breaking the silence that had developed, turned a small amount of his attention toward Toast, "Hey. Did Sophia mention anything about claw marks to you?"

Toast was hesitant to answer, but found no reason to be secretive. "Yes, she did. She sent us an email," Toast answered.

"It might…," Bryn paused; he was distracted by the car, "be worth asking Sophia about them. You couldn't check those out with her while we're busy here, could you?"

Toast folded his arms and tilted his head to one side. "My _partner_ doesn't look busy. Should I take him with me?" He tried to sound as formal as possible despite being absolutely furious at the man's intentions.

"Come now, Toast. You should know that it can easily be done with one person," Bryn started. Before Toast rose his voice to protest further, Bryn beat him to it, "And before you suggest that I go, I'll point out that I'm the only one that knows how to control the car." Bryn rose his hands, which were holding the large controller. "Not to mention, I assume you two have walkie-talkies or something," He looked at Ghost to clarify, which he did by nodding and retrieving one from his man-purse. "I, on the other hand, do not. If you go, we can still communicate to one another if we discover anything worth mentioning."

Ghost looked at Toast with an apologetic – yet somehow unsympathetic – look, "He has a point, Johnny."

"Fine," Toast snapped back and walked out of the room before yelling over his shoulder, "I'll let you two get on with it, _sir_."

Ghost was surprised at Toast's bitter tone. Regardless, he let Toast go. Although, he did stand up to peer at Toast's form becoming increasingly smaller before turning a corner. He was probably going to find Sophia. Ghost wished him luck; in a place like this, he may never find her.

"Oh, Ghost!" Bryn called Ghost over. Ghost was immediately at Bryn's side, "What? Did you find something?"

Ghost peered down intently at the monitor. There was nothing strange on it. It was filled with the same stone walls and occasional crates. Then Bryn directed Ghost's gaze with one of his fingers, "I didn't exactly find something." Ghost noticed that there was a crease that he had previously believed to be the corner of the room. On further inspection, they saw that there was a narrow corridor that led out of the small basement room. "It turns out that the basement was bigger than we originally thought," Bryn said. He looked up at Ghost, respecting his role as the leader of P.I.E, "Should we explore further with the car?"

"No, actually. I think it's time we explore the place for ourselves," Ghost said. Before, he only chose not to enter because he didn't have a flashlight and three people could use one light source efficiently. But with Toast gone, Ghost thought it may work.

"Excellent," Bryn said while clapping his hands together, "I was starting to get restless, anyway. Whenever you're ready, Ghost."

"Actually," Ghost muttered and rubbed the back of his neck, "Do you mind going ahead. My colleague sort of… forgot to pack our flashlights." Ghost looked down embarrassed.

Bryn laughed, "I've been there, Ghost, believe me. That is why I work as a single unit. It's like they say: too many cooks spoil the broth."

Ghost was uplifted to know that Bryn did not look down on him now. He took a deep sigh of relieve as Bryn made his way past him and took out his flashlight.

The two of them made their way down the steps, deliberately cautious of paranormal happenings as well as slipping off one of the cold stone steps.


	7. Part seven - A Partner Astray

**P.I.E – Limey Rivalry (Part seven – A Partner Astray)**

Scanning every room he went to, Toast searched for Sophia. He started by checking the dining room, since that was the only other room he could think of besides where he'd just left, but she wasn't there. Toast's next guess was the kitchen, if he knew where it was. For all he knew, the kitchen was one or two floors up; it was an old building and Toast thought it would include a dumbwaiter.

Instead, Toast resorted to walking around aimlessly. He cursed his inadequate situation. He thought to himself, _why did Sophia have to leave in the first place_? The realisation hit him like a steel wall. Bryn had sent her out of the room and later told Toast to find her again. It must have been intentional, Toast was sure of it. Perhaps it was a method to get Toast out of his way for longer. Why, Toast thought, would he try to make sure Ghost spends the littlest time with his own partner and closest friend?

Just then, a crackling noise came from Toast's walkie-talkie attacked to his belt, followed by a familiar voice, "Johnny, are you receiving us?"

Toast picked up his walkie-talkie and responded, "Yes, sir. Over."

"I just wanted to tell you that we're going down into the basement, now."

Toast fumed. He was confident that Bryn got rid of him so he could investigate with Ghost alone. "Sir," Toast said, "just… Be careful down there."

He wanted to warn his companion about Bryn's hidden intentions, but didn't know how to. Besides, Bryn only seemed to be targeting Toast. From Ghost's perspective, Bryn was not only intellectual and competent, but suave and friendly as well. Even if Toast did tell Ghost, he'd probably disbelieve him and claim that Toast was simply overreacting.

Ghost gave one final message before vanishing from the conversation, "Okay, Johnny. I wish you luck on your side. Over and out."

Toast snorted when the crackling ended. He hadn't been getting any luck so far. He hadn't managed to find a single trace of any living person anywhere, besides the empty cup of tea that Bryn had been drinking out of and the chair he had left jutting out at an odd angle in the dining room. Toast couldn't help tucking it in when he saw it.

Looking around the current room he was in, Toast realised he didn't keep track of where he was going. He was standing in the middle of a room he had never been in before, nor did he know how to get back to anywhere recognisable. Toast cursed to himself again, pondering why all the rooms had to be so much alike. He was certain that half of the rooms were pointless, anyway; most of the rooms he had been in had been close to empty aside from the occasional table or fancy chandelier.

It was at this moment that Toast gave up searching for her and ended up shouting Sophia's name. If he wasn't going to find her, then she can just find him. Usually, he would try to keep a stiff upper lip toward these sorts of things. This, however, was different. He was annoyed, angry and a little bit scared by being slightly lost.

After a minute or two of yelling, Sophia finally found him. She was breathing heavily, due to running around her estate to find one inpatient man. Toast could see that she was not happy with him at all; she glared at him through her reading glasses like a strict librarian. She was not happy about being interrupted from her reading.

"Yes, Mr. Toast. What can I help you with?" She asked bitterly. Toast didn't need attitude from her as well.

He tried to calm down before speaking to her. "I'm sorry for yelling. I've been looking for you for quite some time now," Toast apologised. "I wanted to ask you about the claw marks that you mentioned in your email."

Sophia continued to look at Toast while occasionally glancing at seemingly nothing. Eventually, she gave a soft huff, "All right. Come on, then."

She left from underneath the doorframe. Toast followed her. He was still a little tense, but he simmered down a bit, considering that he was actually going to do his job.


	8. Part eight - An Unsighted Inspection

**P.I.E – Limey Rivalry (Part eight – An Unsighted Inspection)**

The trip down took longer than Ghost and Bryn had expected. Based on the sounds made by Bryn's car as it down, Ghost had estimated it to be around five yards down. Of course, that meant Bryn had estimated around four-point-five metres, give or take. Either way, their guesses were obviously incorrect; it felt like they had been inching their way down for five minutes. Although, that was likely due to the snail pace they were travelling.

Ghost considered that Bryn must have been a cautious guy; he was breathing very lightly and had his eyes wide open with each step. Ghost found it odd that a man who does this for a living would be so wary in the dark.

At last, they made it to the basement floor. They both took a sigh of relieve that they no longer had to be so confined.

Bryn's attitude changed immediately once he was on consistently flat ground again. He scanned the area with his torch fairly quickly.

Ghost initially noticed how small the room actually was. He wasn't expecting it to be as large as the rooms upstairs, but the place looked so much bigger from the droid's perspective. Speaking of which, Bryn glared at the floor intently, trying to find the car.

The floor was a rectangular plane, littered with crates and boxes stacked upon one another. The ceiling was moderately low down, causing Ghost to feel a little claustrophobic. The air around them felt humid and stale-smelling, causing Ghost to gag before holding his breath. Whenever Bryn shone his flashlight away from Ghost's peripheral vision, his whole field of view was caked with thick darkness. It was absolutely impossible to see anything without Bryn's flashlight.

Ghost felt anxious, helpless and like his life was in grave danger. Ghost gave a wide toothy smile. It felt like another case from three months ago, and Ghost loved it.

He could fear shuffling to his left and tensed up, unsure of what it was for a second. After the source of the shifting began to speak, Ghost was relieved to know that it was Bryn. "Ghost!" Bryn called over his shoulder, "I've found my car, plus the corridor we discovered before." He went on, "From what I can see, it seemed rather narrow. But it's empty, so it should be easy to travel through."

Ghost answered back to show that he understood, "Great, Bryn, but can you come here with the torch. I'm blind here."

"Oh, sorry. I forgot you didn't have a torch," Bryn said before clambering back the way he came. "Stay there, Ghost. I think I can fix the light dilemma," Bryn said as he continued to make his way toward Ghost.

The light reached Ghost's view again and he sighed. He nodded a thanks toward Bryn, who was searching through his trouser pockets. With a quick "Ah-ha" from Bryn, he revealed a flare and handed it to Ghost.

Ghost accepted the flare eagerly, before trying to set it off. Bryn stopped him as soon as he noticed. "I only have a few of those and I'd hate to waste them. Save that one for when we're working apart," he whispered to Ghost.

"Right, sorry," Ghost said.

Bryn's mind seemed to drift off to something else for a moment. Ghost took advantage of Bryn's flashlight as much as possible, looking at the floor where it was pointing. Ghost noticed various bits of paper on the ground. Some were large scraps and others were small snippets. They had clearly decayed and were hard to read. From what Ghost could make out, some looked like newspaper clippings. Others were covered with wild scratches with the occasional word like ' _theif_ ' or ' _how_ '.

Ghost was about to mention this to Bryn. However, Bryn piped up and caused Ghost to wait. "Oh, Ghost. We should probably tell your partner that we're down here, in case he goes to find us," he advised.

"Yeah, of course. Thanks for the reminder," Ghost said before reaching for his walkie-talkie. Bryn offered some light, if Ghost needed it. Ghost pressed on a button and began to talk into it. "Johnny, are you receiving us?" he asked and waited for a replay. There was an awkward moment of silence between the two men, as they lingered for a reply.

The tired voice of Ghost's partner joined the crackling background noise. "Yes, sir. Over," Toast said.

"I just wanted to tell you that we're going down into the basement, now," Ghost lied partially. For some reason, he thought it would be better if Toast thought they had warned him before entering the basement.

Toast slowly replied, "Sir… just… Be careful down there."

Ghost smiled at his partner showing concern. Ghost blamed it on the fact that Toast almost always accompanied him in dangerous places. Now that they were apart, Toast couldn't keep an eye on his colleague. Ghost responded with a chipper voice, "Okay, Johnny. I wish you luck on your side. Over and out." He placed the walkie-talkie back in his hoodie pocket.

"He sounds fatigued," Bryn said out of nowhere.

"Really?" Ghost asked, looking up at Bryn. Ghost considered that: Toast was talking very slow and didn't seem to have the chipper tone he normally carried. "Perhaps you're right. Maybe Toast could do with some rest after this."

"Oh, I agree," Bryn added as he began to walk back to the corridor with Ghost following behind. "After all, the responsibility of finding one woman within a massive property such as this must have been a little too exhausting for him."

Ghost giggled at that, "Yep. You might be true, there."

The investigator and the examiner casually made their way to the nefarious entrance to the corridor, keen to get stuck into their beloved jobs.


	9. Part nine - An Unaided Observation

**P.I.E – Limey Rivalry (Part nine – An Unaided Observation)**

A long while after finding him, Sophia directs Toast to the supposed 'marks'. The trip had taken a while; Sophia wasn't the fastest person and their destination was a floor above them.

Toast tried to destress his mind. While following Sophia, he flatly eyeballed the journey. They had been travelling through seemingly endless corridors for the past few minutes. Toast noted the wall paper's hideous green colour, along with the red carpet that they were walking on. Occasionally, they would pass a painting of people Toast could only assume to be part of The Gumball Family. They were an odd looking bunch, from what Toast could see; some were fat and round, others had weird facial hair and Toast was sure that most of the women looked like men. He made sure to remember every painting he saw and where he saw each one. This was partly so Toast wouldn't get lost again and partly to take his mind off the others.

Well, Toast was more worried about Ghost than he was about Bryn, but since they were a single unit at the moment, Toast regarded them as one. Toast cringed and shattered that thought. Ghost and Bryn were not partners; Toast was Ghost's partner and that will never change.

Sophia came to a sudden stop, which caused Toast to flutter his arms around mindlessly so he did not lose his balance and fall on her. After getting his composure back together, he looked at Sophia for a clue as to why they stopped.

"The first claw mark appeared here," Sophia said, pointing to a part of the wall. As promised, there were three long jagged scars stretching up the wall. They had absolutely ruined the wallpaper.

She pointed in another direction, "My bedroom is right over there, at the end of the couloir."

Toast rattled through the first few questions that his mind came up with, "When did these three marks appear?"

"Around two months back, now. I just woke up one morning and came across it on my way out my room. At first, I thought there might have been an animal in the house: like a bear or something. But I was sure that there wasn't a way that an animal that big could get into the house without making enough sound to wake me. I also checked every entrance and some of the windows on the ground floor. Nothing was smashed or broken, so an animal couldn't have gotten in here."

"How many other marks are there?"

"Eight or nine, last time I checked," Sophia looked around in order to remember more information that may be helpful. "They usually only appear in corridors like this one, but there are two in some of the rooms downstairs."

"How quickly were these marks appearing between each other?"

"Oh… A week or two between, usually. Although, some have appeared within a few days of each other."

"Okay," Toast said, trying to make sense of the data. "One last question for now: When do these marks appear? That is, I mean, are they created at night specifically or anytime during the day?"

"Well I haven't exactly witnessed one being made," Sophia murmured while rubbing her chin, "but I only ever find them in the morning. The wall will be perfectly fine in the evening, but will be violated when I see it again."

Toast regarded all the information. No matter how he shifted the data around, he found no real connection to the basement or the history. The closest relation he could think of would be an animal residing within the basement that leaves at night. However, that didn't explain how the marks usually only appear in places far from the basement door, why there is no other damage to the property aside from large scratches, how an animal could have gotten into the basement or out of it and why an animal would make etch into the walls at all.

Toast held his chin and racked his brain to spot something he is missing. He looks directly at the laceration of the wall that Sophia had shown him.

Then, with an abrupt realisation, Toast snapped his fingers and walked towards the three rugged lines, startling Sophia. "What makes you think that these are claw marks, Ma'am?" he asked her, making her tilt her head slightly.

"I just assumed," Sophia said simply.

Toast shacked his head at her and examined the marks closely, "While these lines do seem jagged, they are also unparalleled. Based on the fact that the indents are deeper at the bottom end of each line, it also seems like something was dragged upward to make them. I believe that these marks weren't created by an animal, but are the product of some sort of tool."

He crotched down until the marks were eyelevel with him. He ran his finger up the length of one of the marks as Sophia considered his hypothesis. "If that's so," she said, "then with what?"

"I don't know," Toast confessed before standing up and sighing. "Where are the other marks? The ones you said weren't in the usual places."

Sophia answered fairly quickly, "The Lounge and the Billiard Room."

Toast had a new sense of fervour. He finally felt like he knew what he had to do. Before then, Toast had felt faintly lost in terms of what to do. It didn't help that he had already gotten lost once. He gestured down the way they had come, "Lead the way, ma'am."

Sophia walked past him with her chin up, saying nothing to him. She wasn't going to thank him until he actually came up with an answer to her questions. So far, all Toast had done was disturb her and made her walk around the house for him. For now, she'll entertain him and take him to wherever he needs to be.

Toast followed behind, happy to know that he can manage an investigation just fine without the aid or support of Ghost.


	10. Part ten - A Possible Turning

**P.I.E – Limey Rivalry (Part ten – A Possible Turning)**

The two men shifted through the narrow passageway, huddling together slightly, following the light made by Bryn's flashlight. The atmosphere was tense, to say the least; they were utterly silent as they walked, expecting a malevolent phantom or savage demon to appear at any moment. Ghost, as a reflex, took out a small gun out of his bag. Although, he doubted it would be effective against anything paranormal.

The air around the two were dense and suffocating. Ghost had to take quiet gulps of air occasionally, none of which were entirely pleasant. Bryn took long, but soft, breaths in and out of his nose. Every now and then, Bryn's nose twitched like a rabbit's, due to the schlocky and unsuitable collections of stale gases around them.

Luckily, any dust that been in the basement had long since settled onto the floor. Unfortunately, both Bryn's and Ghost's movements were churning it back up after years. Despite this, neither of them took notice of it; they were looking straight ahead toward the halo created by Bryn's flashlight.

Ghost was a little unadapt to the amount of silence and dead air, at that moment. Whilst he understood perfectly that they needed to be careful, P.I.E was never the type of paranormal investigators to do their jobs noiselessly. To be honest, Ghost was feeling wearier over the tense ambience of the situation than the actual risk of hostile spirits.

With no warning, Bryn began talking to Ghost over his shoulder. "So, Ghost. While we're here, why don't you tell me a little more about yourself?"

"Are you serious?" Ghost asked, baffled towards Bryn's unexpected casualness. From what Ghost could make out of his face and body language, Bryn seemed just as uncomfortable as he was.

"Of course. I know little about you besides a few of your cases. I'd like to know more about the life you've lived. _The life of the great Johnny Ghost_ ," Bryn said, seeming entirely genuine.

"I can say the same about you," Ghost replied.

Bryn smirked playfully, "True, but I asked first." Bryn looked straight ahead again. "I'm curious, Ghost: what made you want to find and capture the spirits of the dead for a living?"

Ghost shrugged while he recalled his past, "I don't know. It was probably the thought of adventure and danger, I guess."

"Did you always believe in the supernatural?"

"Yeah, definitely."

"How? Did your parents believe or did you discover something?"

"Umm… N-no. I don't think they did, actually," Ghost replied, unsure of his answer.

Bryn oohed at the answer he was given. "So you must've learnt later on, then. How did you find out? Did you wander into the woods and find a ghostly hag, stumble across a poltergeist at a sleepover, or were you a victim of a haunting yourself? Come on, Ghost, I'm interested."

Slowly fumbling his thoughts together, Ghost began quickly reliving his memories. Memoirs from his early life paraded across his vision. However, certain visions and imaginary concepts began to expose themselves and Ghost gasped. How had he forgotten them again?

Upon hearing Ghost's sharp inhalation, Bryn – without turning his head – asked, "Are you feeling okay, Ghost? Did you remember something shocking?" Without completely realising it, Bryn had been spot-on with his assumption.

Ghost didn't answer immediately. His head began to ache as he rethought about his childhood. "N-no… No, I… argh." His entire body felt itchy and Ghost lost focus momentarily. His breathing was uneasy and a small amount of Ghost's being began to panic.

Bryn glanced over his shoulder again to see why Ghost had become unresponsive. Although he was almost effectively bathed in shadow, Bryn noticed Ghost eyes. They had seemed to change into a much darker tinge, though Bryn couldn't make out the exact colour. Of course, unbeknown to the British ghost hunter, they were turning a brilliant crimson red hue.

Ghost's memories as a paranormal investigator were quickly slipping away from him, being replaced with much more sinister and gruesome thoughts and desires. All the while, Ghost did not call for assistance or try to run, instead helplessly enduring it. Ghost was about to leave and Toast wasn't around to help him. The last few traces of Ghost willed out a tear and a silent prayer that he wouldn't hurt anyone.

Before Ghost could turn into anything dire, he was brought back to reality by a sudden snapping sound. He peered around to see Bryn's slim musical fingers inches away from his face.

Bryn's features were partly concerned, yet partly mellow. "Are you alright, Ghost? You seemed to be having… an _episode_ there."

Ghost shook his head and blinked heavily. "Y-yeah. I'm fine," Ghost said, unsurprisingly lost for words.

He was awestruck. Bryn may have just saved him. Only ever Toast had been able to coax him away from turning, by using soothing words and clutching him tightly. Yet, Bryn had the capability of doing the exact same thing with just a few finger clicks. Bryn probably didn't even know what he'd done. Ghost didn't say a word and gazed at the ground, thinking about the situation no less than a minute ago. " _Who was this guy?"_ Ghost thought.

Almost as if he had forgotten the whole ordeal, Bryn uttered, "How long is this passageway? Theoretically, we've been walking in an absolutely straight line for ten minutes without any alternative route or other rooms."

Ghost, catching up with the present again, replied to Bryn's complaint. "What if there was some sort of secret passageway that we walked by. Heck," Ghost threw up his arms, within the small volume of space they had, in order to show emphasis, "we could be surrounded by secret passageways."

"Do you know something, Ghost?" Bryn asked rhetorically, "I like what you're thinking." He turned his flashlight to peer at the walls. "Unfortunately, we don't have enough time to waste searching for any. We should consider examining here as we leave."

"Good thinking," Ghost said. "But… What do we do now? Should we keep going?"

Bryn looked into the uncharted dark obscurity, a pondering look plastering his features. Eventually, he just smirked again. "Well, it would be disappointing and incredibly anticlimactic, if we left without seeing anything. Sophia wanted her anxieties removed and I assume you wanted an interesting case, right?" He looked at Ghost. The latter of which was puzzled about how Bryn knew that.

"How would you know I wanted a good case?" Ghost asked coolly, trying to disguise his curiousness.

Bryn took a second to answer. "It was mainly a guess, to be perfectly honest. From what I discovered by searching your company, I noticed that none of your cases for the past three months or so had been noteworthy enough to be spoken about. Not to mention, I noticed how distraught you looked when you discovered that I would be helping you. You seemed to actually be crying."

Ghost looked away, blushing. "C'mon, I wasn't really crying. I was just a little… upset," Ghost vainly tried to defend himself. Although, he realised that nothing he said was going to mask the truth.

Bryn chuckled to himself and wholeheartedly placed a hand on Ghost's shoulder, "To think: when I first saw you, I tried to impress you. Shaking your hand, telling you how much I admired your work. Then, you left and came back with tears in your eyes because I had ruined your perfect investigation. I suppose I began treating you like an equal, at that point." Bryn muttered, "An actual partner," under his breath, which Ghost wasn't able to hear.

"Yeah, sorry about that. You're right." Ghost apologised for his earlier behaviour. Although, from what he could tell, Bryn had already forgiven him long before.

Abruptly, Bryn halted, making Ghost collide into his surprisingly gaunt back. When Ghost expected Bryn to say something, he looked up at the British man. His features were vigilant. He seemed to be looking at something that Ghost couldn't find. "Bryn, what did you find?" Ghost whispered.

"Remember what you said about _hidden passageways_ , Ghost?" Bryn asked. Seeing Ghost nod, Bryn continued, "I think I might have found something to support that."

Ghost perked up, "Where?"

Bryn walked up to the left side of the passageway and looked intently at one of the small stones that made up the entire wall. On closer examination, Ghost realised that it had three tiny marks along it. On top of that, there was a certain thing about it that set it apart from the other stones.

Taking a risk, Bryn pushed on the stone, which turned out to be a button. As expected, the wall that they had both been standing near began to move until a new way was formed.

Ghost and Bryn shared a glance before wildly laughing. After a quick high-five, the two happily strutted to the new corridor. This time, Ghost took the lead while Bryn supported the rear. Despite their excitement, they did both realise that it did look near identical to the original passageway.

Ghost shrugged, "Oh well, at least no one will be too disappointed." The two men began walking off again as the thick wall of stone slowly and eerily closed behind them.


	11. Part eleven - An Unravelling Plot

**P.I.E – Limey Rivalry (Part eleven – An Unravelling Plot)**

While Ghost and Bryn were proceeding through the undiscovered gloom – endangering their lives and their sanities, Toast accepted his cup of tea that Sophia had been benevolent enough to give him. Toast noticed that it was in an identical posh teacup that he had seen Bryn drinking out of, hours ago.

They were in the lounge. It was one of the most impressive rooms out of the entire house, so far. Toast – despite being raised very wealthy – still had to fight for breath, when he had entered.

Although there was a hardwood floor, there was massive, luxuriously elegant, rug that almost stretched across the entire flooring. Sophia had insisted that Toast removed his shoes before he entered, so he imagined it was important to keep tidy. Toast was happy that she had made him discard his footwear; the rug felt absolutely heavenly on his near-bare feet. Toast had considered removing his socks before realising how stupid that would look.

On top of the floor, the rest of the room was just as tasteful. A colossal chandelier loomed overhead. It radiated a brilliant golden light that managed to kindle everything within the living room. It possessed such a presence to the professional ghost hunter. It was like the heart of the estate.

Aside from that, the décor was ruined for Toast when he noticed more painted family portraits. Toast didn't want to be disrespectful, but every person within each painting gave Toast a bad vibe.

He was staring up at one of the family paintings when he was given his beverage of choice. It was the largest painting in the whole room, as well as placed in the centre of it. It would have been impossible to walk in and out without seeing it. The subject of said picture was a particular gargantuan stout man that made an appearance in many other paintings. The man always took the centre of most images he was in. He had a constant disapproving aspect on each of his faces. By the way he looked at the observer of the painting, it was as if the man within the created scene was eternally judging each person that came across the work of arts. In the portrayal that Toast was gazing upon, the man was wearing a coal black suit. It was accompanied with a white shirt and an ebony tie. Nothing about his attire was out of the ordinary considering his clear power and riches. Although, his posture and look on his pudgy face signified a sizable amount of pride. He was standing within a poorly lit room that had little detail compared to the self-centred looking individual.

The man wouldn't have been so fascinating to Toast, if it wasn't for an important detail. Underneath the large portrait were three long marks running up the wall. He hadn't noticed it when he saw the first markings, but Toast had discovered a correlation. The first scratches had also been done underneath a painting. Toast was sure that if he were to revisit the original marks, the podgy man would be staring down disapprovingly at him.

As Toast continued to gaze, Sophia joined him to his right. She looked up at the painting occasionally, but mostly had her attention on Toast.

Toast decided to begin his inspection. To do so, he should begin interrogating Sophia again. "Miss Gumball," he began, to get her concentration, "if you don't mind me asking, who is this man?" He pointed up at the subject for Sophia to see.

"Well," Sophia said slowly, "He's Alexander Gumball. The one that founded the business that led to this estate."

Toast looked back up at the man, giving him a distasteful look. "I'm feeling something odd about him. He, even in a painting, is giving off a threatening evil aura," Toast said bluntly.

Sophia rose an eyebrow. "Well, despite what you may be _feeling_ , should the painting really matter?"

Toast was faintly hurt by Sophia's harshness. Perhaps he'd hit a nerve. "If all the marks are underneath pictures of him, he could be a very important key in unravelling this mystery." Toast took a step toward the wall where the painting hung. "Do you know when and, more importantly, _how_ he died?"

"I'm sure it was lung cancer, or something. Maybe it was asthma. Whatever it was, he had trouble breathing. I think it was in the 1930s."

"Thank you, madam," Toast said, gratified with the answer.

"How is that meant to be helpful, Mr Toast?" Sophia asked, catching on to his satisfaction.

Toast turned to her and leaned onto the wall, placing himself directly underneath the painting. "Well, ma'am, I made sure to memorise your email before setting off, today."

Sophia looked genuinely intrigued, causing Toast to feel a dab of confidence. "If I may quote you: you've been hearing weird noises _like moans and heavy breaths_ ," Toast allowed Sophia a moment to understand where he was going before continuing, "and you've had a feeling as though _you were being watched_." He looked above at the distorted image of Alexander Gumball, whose eyes still seemed to be watching him. Sophia gasped and took a short stride backward, looking directly into the condemning eyes of the dead owner of the mansion.

Toast smirked up at the painting. He felt incredibly high-and-mighty; he had come close to cracking the case by himself. That never happened. Normally, Ghost would come up with the conclusions, or the ghosts would reveal themselves before any of them had gathered enough evidence to guess anything. Now, for the first time, Toast had led his own investigation, found his own evidence and had come up with a perfectly logical conclusion without aid from Ghost. Toast had never felt so jubilant and triumphal.

Sophia watched Toast, while he was on his self-absorbed high. She hadn't considered him as genuine as she had Ghost and Bryn, earlier. He was, for the most part, glued to the wall, waiting for a command from the other two men. Yet, he was now able to crack a case with a few questions answered. She felt ashamed for doubting him.

Toast caught up with himself, beginning to come up with a more solid theory. Alexander Gumball was haunting the place. He didn't have an uncertainty about that, whatsoever. Now, he just needed to know why he would choose to live on as a spirit and how the members of The Gumball Bloodline seemed to never die of old age. This case wasn't closed yet.

Clearing his throat, he looked toward Sophia, who was giving him her whole attention. "Did you say something about a billiard room, Miss Gumball?"


	12. Part twelve - A Crimson Beacon

**P.I.E – Limey Rivalry (Part twelve – A Crimson Beacon)**

Ghost was experiencing déjà vu. He wasn't expecting a drastic difference compared to the last corridor they were in, but this new passageway was completely identical to the last: the walls were still cobblestoned; the space they had was just as stifling; and it was still one long corridor. He imagined it would be seriously easy to get lost, if one didn't know the layout of the place. " _Wait_ " _._

Ghost froze. This time, Bryn bumped into his back. The certain individual in question became noticeably more alert and looked over the smaller man's shoulders. "What is it? Did you see something? Did you see a ghost?" Bryn asked a series of questions excitedly, guessing Ghost's reason for stopping was similar to his own.

"No," Ghost said simply. After a second, he looked back at Bryn. "I just thought… we don't know how large this place is. We also don't know the design of this place. If we don't keep track, we might not be able to find our way out again."

Bryn smirked, "I see you're a cautious fellow. So far, we've made one left turn into a hidden passageway and you are already scared about getting lost," Bryn said jovially, making Ghost blush from mild embarrassment. "Although," Bryn murmured, "I do agree with you. We should think of a way to mark our steps."

"Should we go back?" Ghost asked. He imagined Bryn might have something for an emergency like this, but it would have be stored in his van.

Bryn rubbed his chin thoughtfully, causing the stubble to produce scraping sounds. A moment later, he snapped his fingers again before going through his jacket pockets. His hands emerged, clutching small cartons of something.

Ghost cocked his head in confusion. He wasn't sure what Bryn was going to do, which intrigued him.

"How's this for a mark?" Bryn said, taking out a small paintbrush and spreading a considerable amount of the content onto one of the walls. It had a strange red colour and its texture was a mix of thick and runny. Ghost honestly thought Bryn had resorted to spreading jam on the walls. _Why would he carry jam around with him_ , Ghost contemplated, _Are all Britons such eccentrics_. Ghost had caught Toast bringing crumpets and a flask of English Breakfast Tea to their missions, on occasion. Maybe Bryn took food with him, as well.

Bryn finished his work and turned back to Ghost, proudly holding his arms behind his back, his eyes swiftly shrinking as he looked into the beam of the flashlight. The two stood in silence for a moment; Bryn was waiting for Ghost to be impressed while Ghost was waiting for an explanation.

At last, Ghost decided to talk first. "How is that meant to help?"

Bryn seemed genuinely confused for a second before he realised why Ghost was puzzled. He looked back to the mess he made on the wall and saw that Ghost was still shining the flashlight on it. "Turn the torch off," he ordered softly.

Ghost gradually did as he said. Once the flashlight was off, Ghost could only see pitch-black. He wasn't surprised by that at all. He waited for his eyes to adjust to the darkness, causing the atmosphere to become deathly quiet to the point of being torturous.

After a few long moments, Ghost's sight had adapted enough to see something through the otherwise dominant gloom. A brilliant crimson glow was emanating from the substance that Bryn had put on the walls. Ghost also noticed that Bryn had drawn out a comical-looking ghost out of it. It did look quite amusing and Ghost scoffed when he spotted it. Bryn stood to the right of the marking; the illumination from the crimson ghost caused Bryn's right side to be outlined. Ghost recognized his signature smirk he made when he wanted to show off.

"Glow-in-the-dark gel, Ghost," he stated. "It was created by a friend of mine. It's meant for these types of situations."

"You could've thought of that sooner," Ghost stated, folding his arms and puffing his cheeks out despite knowing that Bryn couldn't see him.

"What can I say," Bryn lifted his hands up, sarcastically pretending to defend himself, "this is actually the first time I've used it in months."

"Why's that?" Ghost asked, "Not enough creepy dark basements in your line of work?"

"No, it isn't that." Bryn turned away and coughed before speaking again, appearing – from Ghost's less-than-decent perspective – embarrassed. "The problem is that – thanks to both its colour and texture – it looks exactly like ectoplasm. In fact, ectoplasm also glows in the dark. Even when I did need to use it, it would usually be covered by the ghost to mess with me. As you can imagine, I started considering the stuff useless."

Ghost couldn't help but chortle at that, making Bryn cough more while turning as red as his obsolete gloop. "Did your friend even know that, when he was making it?" Ghost asked giggly.

Bryn just shook his head, trying to compose himself. "Yes, I did have a very thorough discussion about it when I next saw him after the first few times.

"Luckily, I haven't seen any trace of ectoplasm yet. So, _fingers crossed_ , the ghost down here is not capable of producing any and we'll be fine. _Our glowing beacons_ should be safe from any vandalism." Bryn placed his hand next to the red gel as he leaned against the rough stone wall.

"Perfect." Ghost turned, intending to continue forward.

"Actually, Ghost, before you move on," Bryn called. He then pointed behind the two of them, down the way they had come, "we should probably illuminate the way we came. Just in case."

Ghost stared at the red outline of Bryn's right side. Then he looked back to a void of black. Ghost hadn't turned the flashlight back on yet.

Ghost huffed and dryly chuckled, "Now who's afraid of getting lost." He walked back with Bryn, making their way back to the hidden door.

Bryn replied, "Once again, what can I say‽ After all, you did plant the seed of concern into my head. I'm just making sure you won't regret anything later."

As like before, Bryn was in front and Ghost held the rear. They moved without a sense of caution this time, smiling and chatting with one another as they went.


	13. Part thirteen - An Entity Discovered

**P.I.E – Limey Rivalry (Part thirteen – An Entity Discovered)**

Once again, Ghost and Bryn had made little progress over the last hour or so. They had made glowing indicators. That, however, was it. They were still roaming within the same corridor, with no evidence of paranormal activity found.

Ghost was in front this time, while Bryn was behind. The British man in question had his hands in his pockets, lazily looking slightly up and to the left. From others' perspectives, Bryn would seem careless and inattentive. However, Bryn mind was vivacious and diligent. It may not have shown on his face, but Bryn was piecing together every detail he and the others had received throughout the day.

There were the reports by Sophia. She claimed she could hear noises that sounded like moans and whines. Bryn had not heard a single peep outside of Ghost and himself. She mentioned claw marks scattered across the house that appear out-of-the-blue. Again, he had not spotted any since he had gotten there, so he could make no comment about that. Then, of course, Sophia never wanted to go near the basement for unknown reasons. However, neither Ghost nor Bryn had witnessed anything trying to stop them from exploring the place. In fact, they had not actually found any evidence for anything paranormal since they had arrived. For all they knew, it could've been a massive misunderstanding or – in a worse situation – a trap. Bryn brushed off the latter of his ideas; why would anyone want to get rid of two moderately well-known supernatural inspectors.

Ghost suddenly huffed, dropping the flashlight slightly. The change of scenery from dullish grey to shadowy black caused Bryn to come back to reality. Ghost continued to break the silence, "I've never been a fan of not talking, y'know. Can we please talk about something?"

Bryn took a moment. He was slightly taken aback by Ghost's passive aggressive insistence on a conversation. Therefore, his mind was in a slight daze. After his mentality had caught up with him, he sneered playfully. "What would you like to talk about?" he asked as if he was talking to a child.

Ghost looked around at the nothingness, hoping something would give him inspiration. "I don't know. Anything will do," he eventually said. Then, an idea surfaced, "Can you talk about your childhood?"

The desire to know more about the enigma known as Bryn was seeded within Ghost's mind ever since he had saved him from turning. Ghost had once thought Toast would be the only person that could stop his leaps into insanity. Now, a new figure was just as capable. He wanted to know more about the man.

Bryn, as it turned out, was thinking about the same event. "After what happened to you last time we spoke about our pasts, it may be best to avoid those subjects," he said looking slightly concerned at Ghost.

"No," Ghost said abruptly, "I… I didn't want to talk about my childhood… especially because of what happened."

"Yes, what was… _that_ all about, anyway?" Bryn asked, returning to his casual manner.

"I-it's complicated," Ghost offered softly. The memories that had once refined themselves within Ghost's head had been buried once again. "I think it has something to do with repressed memories. I can't remember what they are though. I guess talking about the days when I was young might've made me remember them and… well… when that happens, I… sort of… change."

"Really," Bryn said simply.

Ghost continued, "I might've changed earlier… If you hadn't have saved me."

Bryn gave Ghost a confused look. "How exactly did I _save_ you?"

Ghost began snapping his unoccupied fingers in front of Bryn's face playfully. Bryn chuckled back. "It's strange," Ghost said, "the only person that had the ability to stop me turning when I was that close to changing was Toast."

"Is that why you keep him around?" Bryn genuinely asked.

Ghost scoffed, "No. He does much more than that."

"What is he to you, anyway?" Bryn continued to probe for information.

"We're childhood friends," Ghost said, smiling as images of two boys playing in a suburban neighbourhood were recalled. "We've always been close," Ghost carried on, "we've watched each other's backs even before we started calling ourselves partners."

"Did he still call you 's _ir_ ' back then?" Bryn asked jokingly.

Ghost laughed, "I think I insisted on it, actually. I must've had issues with being young. Did you know he's older than me?"

Bryn only answered Ghost by giving him a deadpan look that shrieked 'of course'.

Deciding to change the subject, Bryn asked, "So… do you want to know about my adolescence or my junior years?"

Ghost was still in the mind-set of the last conversation subject, so Bryn's question befuddled him. "What?" he asked dumbly.

Bryn looked down at Ghost again. "You said you wanted to know about my childhood. I was hoping you'd pick a more specific age period. My memory pre-puberty is slightly mediocre."

Ghost spent a short while trying to choose which chunk of Bryn's life he wanted to know about more. He just asked quickly, "What were your parents like when you were raised?"

Bryn stood up strait and looked to his upper right. "They were typical parents. Nothing was very noteworthy about them… I suppose they did complain a lot. They were already getting old when I and my siblings were growing up."

"You have siblings?" Ghost asked.

"Only two. Delightfully, I got one of each: a brother and a sister. I was the youngest out of the three of us. So I was the _free-spirited artist_ of the family. I think I was the fashionable one as well, now that I remember," he said as he looked down at his grey clothing again. He began talking again, "We grew up in a fairly middleclass life. We never had money issues, but we never had anything we wanted either."

"Toast did," Ghost interrupted. "He has a rich family, so he would have countless toys and stuff when we were young," Ghost said. He began to rub his chin thoughtfully, "I'm sure he still has them somewhere. In storage, perhaps."

"As I was," Bryn made himself clear to Ghost again, "We went to a decent school. Had decent lives, et cetera, et cetera. To be honest, I was never a fan of how _conventional_ my upbringing was. As you might not have noticed, Ghost, I've always been somewhat of an eccentric person."

Ghost nodded slowly, completely believing Bryn's confession. It didn't take too much to believe that Bryn was odd; his outfit must not be too classic in Britain. Then again, Toast was the only person Ghost knew that wore a waistcoat and carried a pocket watch. Maybe the British were actually as peculiar as Americans think.

Bryn resumed, "I stayed at school until I was eighteen, proudly having GCSEs in Physics, Chemistry and Maths, and A levels in additional Maths and Biology… In case you didn't know, GCSE stands for 'General Certificate of Secondary Education'. They're a qualification in a specific subject typically taken by school students aged 14–16.

"Anyway, I decided to work after that. I never liked the idea of colleges. I tried various types of jobs. None of them really connected with me, so I scrapped them continuously. I was honestly starting to think that I might've wasted my entire educational life by getting such uninteresting qualifications.

"Then… I found out about the supernatural. It happened by accident, really. I took a gap year and travelled around the world. One of those places was America. It was fascinating to me; as soon as I walked through the dusty towns or the claustrophobically compact cities and began speaking to Americans, they would always start gushing at my accent or talk to me about my clothes. It didn't start getting insulting until someone asked if I had travelled through time from the nineteen-fifties."

Ghost stifled a laugh, but Bryn chose to ignore him. He returned to his story, "I think it was near this area, actually. I caught sight of a small... lady during one of my night walks. She was wearing an old-fashioned green dress, if I recall."

"Hey, I think I might know her," Ghost proclaimed, "Toast and I have seen her multiple times before. _Aimee_ , I think her name was. She kept following Toast around; she must've found him attractive. It was hilarious." Ghost smiled warmly at the memories.

"Yes, that must have been her," Bryn said.

"How can you be that sure," Ghost asked.

"She chased me around too… Fair to say, I was terrified."

Ghost laughed again, causing Bryn to chuckle along with him.

Bryn finished up his story, "So after that, I learnt about the supernatural and adapted my understanding of science to become a Supernatural Examiner. That would've been when I found out about you two."

Bryn looked down at Ghost again with a weird expression. He asked, "Why did you decide to call yourselves _PIE_ , of all things?"

Before Ghost could answer, the two sensed something to their right. They could hear faint sounds coming from the right side of the wall. One of the devices within one of Bryn's pocket began to vibrate and something inside Ghost's hoodie pocket began to beep. Both of them knew what they meant: a ghost was nearby.

"Finally," Bryn whispered, "I was beginning to think this entire case was a lost cause."

"I know that feeling," Ghost replied in the same quite voice.

There was a little period of time of them standing at the wall where the noise was coming from. Then, with no words shared between them, they both zealously began scanning the cobblestone for a button. They needed to get over there, if they were going to complete this case.

It took a while of mindless panic, but they eventually found a stone with similar markings on. Ghost was the one to push it, while Bryn impatiently waited for the large doors to open. Ghost tossed him the flashlight on his wordless request. Once he was able to fit the width of his body in, Bryn ran down the corridor, searching every direction. Ghost caught up to him, noticeably slower than Bryn was.

They had walked into a small room. Dull grey cobblestone still surrounded them, which didn't surprise the two men. Although, they did realise that this room was much colder than the corridor they were in before. The entity had defiantly passed through this room.

Now that the doors were open and the entity was closer, the two could make out what the noises were. They were haggard groans and wails.

While they tried to pinpoint the direction in which the sounds were coming from, Bryn asked, "Well Ghost. What are you thinking? Is it a level two entity, a level three or a level four?"

"Well, since we can hear it, it must be over a level two. But we don't know if it can be seen yet," Ghost answered nervously.

"But, if the same entity is creating markings upstairs, it should have a physical form. That would mean it is a level four.

As they were discussing the ghost's possible amount of power, they noted the noise's slow speed.

Eventually, they found the wall where the noise was coming from and began searching the walls around them, in case there were any more buttons. Unlike before, there were no markings on any pieces of stone. All they could do was check every small rock. They did that with little relapse in effort. They checked so fast, their arms would appear invisible.

They found a certain small one that would've been near invisible if they weren't thorough enough. This trap door was a lot quicker than the last ones. It sunk into the wall and slide to the side, whereas the other doors opened like traditional double doors.

They bounded into the room, lowering the flashlight so it would not get rid of the ghost but so they could still see. They were in a large room. They immediately recognised the bars at each side of the room.

"It's a dungeon," Ghost said.

Bryn nodded, "Yes, and an old-looking one at that."

They walked in slowly, preparing themselves for a jump scare of some kind. Ghost checked the left side of the room, while Bryn investigated the right. Bryn made slow work of it. He dragged one of his index fingers against one of the walls. The walls were not cobblestoned here. They were a lot smoother and the corridors were. He also rubbed his fingers against one of the bars of the cell, it was rusted and worn with age.

Ghost was quicker than Bryn was. He examined each cell, taking only a second to inspect each one carefully. Most of them were empty and some of them don't look like they were ever used. Once he got to the last one on his side of the room, he gasped loudly.

"Bryn! You need to see this," he called Bryn over.

The cell Ghost was peering at seemed to be the only one that had any evidence of a person being in it. The cell walls had old marking written across them. On closer inspection, Ghost could clearly see that they were made using blood. There were also faint clusters of hair.

Once Bryn joined him, they both breathed out a slow sigh. They were looking at the sight with moderate empathy and curiosity.

Ghost was concerned about the person that resided within the cell and if he was the ghost they were following, while Bryn was looking at the walls which the scratchings were on. Ghost chose to ignore them; they were just scribblings of a crazed prisoner.

"Do you think we've found our ghost's cell?" Ghost asked, not looking up at Bryn and carried on scanning the floor for any more evidence.

" _Pam_ ," Bryn whispered under his breath. He had obviously not meant for Ghost to hear it. However, he did.

Ghost looked up at the man, "What was that?"

"Hmm?" Bryn barely answered, his mind still on other things. Once he realised what Ghost had asked, he turned to face him and explained, "The markings on the wall. They're written in Coelbren y Beirdd – or _the Alphabet of the Bards_. It's a runic alphabet system created in the late eighteenth century by the literary forger – Iolo Morganwg. I was just reading one that said 'pam'. That's Welsh for 'why'."

"Welsh?" Ghost asked, not holding back his confusion.

"Well, yes. The native language of Wales," Bryn said, hoping Ghost would stop making that perplexed face.

Ghost still didn't understand what Bryn was referring to. Eventually, Bryn sighed, "The country adjacent to England."

"… Scotland?"

Bryn huffed and turned back to the writing, "It doesn't matter. What matters is: we have a Welsh prisoner in a North Carolinian manor's dungeon writing in a fake writing system with his own blood."

Ghost was impressed. "Nice sum-up," he said.

"Diolch– I–I mean… thank you," Bryn stuttered. "Sorry, you had me speaking Welsh myself for a second," he laughed before reading again.

Ghost waited for Bryn to finish translating. Perhaps it could reveal something about the mystery. He stood up from where he was crouching and joined Bryn.

As he looked at the crimson markings, Ghost was bewildered that Bryn could make any sense of it whatsoever.

"Well," Bryn yelled abruptly before clapping his hands together. Ghost waited with baited breath for Bryn to reveal what it said. Bryn took a deep breath before speaking, "these are defiantly the ramblings of a madman."

Ghost had never been so disappointed. "What‽" he bellowed.

"They're just the regular 'how could you?' and 'I'll kill you' sort of messages… Although, there is one that says 'ffrindiau'. That means 'friend'. I have no clue what that means."

"Oh well," Ghost puffed out his cheeks and left the cell with a decreased amount of respect for the dead he had before.

Suddenly, without warning, the space around them began to vibrate and the sound of machinery was heard. Ghost closed his eyes out of instinct. He disregarded his fight or flight response and simply decided to freeze in place to protect himself.

It must have been twenty seconds before Bryn called him over from afar. Ghost opened his eyes and looked toward Bryn. He had moved back toward the door. He continued to wave him over.

Ghost complied sluggishly, then asked, "What happened?"

Bryn happily answered, "Well, I couldn't give you the full details even if I wanted to, but all the doors are open now."

"What‽" Ghost exasperated. He looked over Bryn's shoulder to see the room they had been in before. Five more doors were open in that room alone and, based on all the machinery they had heard before, Ghost imagined that there were many more open passageways. Ghost coos, "Well, isn't this our luck."

They also noticed that tiny lights that had been hidden from view were now on. Bryn actually sighed jokingly, "I suppose my glow-in-the-dark paint is useless once again."

The two giggled and chuckled to one another.

They still had much more investigating to do.


	14. Part 14 An Intoxicating Therapy Session

**P.I.E – Limey Rivalry (Part fourteen – An Intoxicating Therapy Session)**

Unlike the lounge that Toast had visited before, the billiard room was cosy and comfortable. The lounge was a grand spectacle, with various attractions in one large place. The billiard room confined certain things into a much smaller area.

The first thing that Toast noticed upon entering was a pool table. It looked like an old one; the wood had lost its varnish and the green top was dishevelled. The balls were resting away from the table, in their own compartment. Toast guessed it was to prevent thievery, though he wasn't sure how.

Toast was also aware of the unlit fireplace towards the end of the room. The fact that it was not producing any heat made Toast feel cold. The fireplace had two fancy leather chairs adjacent to it.

Brown dominated the room, since there was a hardwood floor and wooden panelled walls. Toast found the décor quite homely.

The last thing Toast took notice of was the bar. It was to the direct left of them when they entered the room. Toast realised that it had been a long while since he had indulged himself in any alcoholic beverages; the work they did would never allow it. He was beginning to get thirsty by staring at the open bar.

Once he had dragged his eyes away from the bar, he tried to spot smaller things hidden around the room. He walked in, with Sophia slowly following behind him.

The woman's legs were tired due to all the walking and she took the closest seat that was available. She made herself comfortable on one of the bar stools. Although, she didn't find the seat too fitting. She contemplated moving to one of the plumper chairs that were dotted around the room. Eventually, she decided to stay where she was; she couldn't be bothered to move again and crawl halfway across the room just for a better place to sit.

Toast took a second to absorb the entire environment in before finding the object he was looking for. Hanging above a coffee table, with two chairs surrounding it, was another portrait of Alexander. Toast confirmed his prediction.

At that point, there was little left to do in the room. Toast was disappointed.

He paused for a second before humming to himself in thought. If he played it off as part of his investigation, he could probably get a change to use the bar.

Acting as casual as possible, Toast strutted towards the bar. Sophia watched him do so, confused as to what he was doing.

"So, Sophia," Toast asked as he stepped behind the bar, "do you ever use this room?"

Sophia looked behind her, examining the ancient pool table and the dusty furniture. "No, Mr. Toast. I don't believe I do," she answered.

"So…" Toast began speaking again, squatting down below the bar to see what was down there. There was mostly glasses stacked upon one another. Although, Ghost also spotted something that – when he opened it – turned out to be a refrigerator.

Inside the fridge were relatively recent bottles of brand-named drinks. He glossed over a few of them before closing the fridge door again.

Sophia, who was still sitting on the stool and watching over him, asked "What exactly are you doing, Mr. Toast?"

Toast needed a moment to answer. "Uh…" he stammered as he rose slowly, "I am simply investigating the content of the bar, ma'am. Just to check how old everything is."

He then looks at the back wall, where various bottles holding many liquids were. However, nothing took his fancy. Eventually he explored around behind the bar a bit more. In one of the compartments behind the bar, he found a partially large bottle of scotch. _Brilliant_ , he thought. That was just what he was looking for.

He grabbed the bottle and stood up again. He leaned on the bar as he placed the bottle down.

Sophia gave Toast an unreadable face. She didn't speak about the fact that he was helping himself, but decided to say, "Since your drinking, you may as well pour me a glass as well. Besides, I could do with one."

"Yes, ma'am," Toast said, feeling like a butler.

There was a long moment of silence as Toast retrieves two glasses from behind the bar and pours a hefty amount of scotch into each one. It was an awkward scene, to say the least.

Sophia spoke after swirling her glass around under her face, "So what do you know now that you've seen the house a bit?"

Toast, who was taking a long sip, coughed slightly before answering. "Well, if there is anything I know for sure about, it is that Alexander Gumball is the ghost that has been doing all of this," he said before taking another sip.

"What makes you so sure?" Sophia asked.

"Based on everything I know about the history and the current problems, I just seems to fit."

"Go on. How does it?" Sophia asked again, taking her first sip of the alcoholic beverage.

"Oh, where to begin. I'm sure you remember what I said about the painting and the heavy breathing?" This caused Sophia to nod. Toast took a small gulp of his drink before continuing, "It being Alexander would also explain why paintings of him are the only ones with markings underneath. They could be a symbol.

"Not to mention, it also explains why Fiona never reported anything out of the ordinary; why would he want to torture his own wife. He might just be annoyed that you – a stranger to him – gets the household he created. That might've caused him to leave those marks as a warning."

"Oh," Sophia said plainly, "What… what about the deaths of all the family members. How does that link to him?"

Toast halted. He realised that he had no explanation for that. He explored his entire mind to find a way to support his hypothesis further. In the end, he said, "It could just be coincidence. Things like that do happen. Perhaps a family gene caused some to die of deceases and bad luck got rid of the rest. Maybe he didn't like his family. It could be anything."

Sophia seemed dissatisfied, but didn't probe further. After a moment of silence that was broken occasionally when they would take a quite sip, Sophia ended up asking, "How are Bryn and your partner doing, then? What have they discovered?"

Toast remained inaudible. What could he say to that? He hadn't spoken to them since they had told him they were going down into the basement. They could be doing anything, for all he knew.

Since Sophia wanted an answer, Toast said, "They're down in the basement. I don't think they've uncovered anything yet."

"Really!" Sophia asked, honestly surprised. She had expected the two to have quite a chaotic time down there, if that was where the ghost was hiding.

"To be honest," Toast clears his throat, "We haven't been communicating with each other since we parted ways."

"Oh," Sophia said, thinking about it. "Do you think they're alright?"

Toast exhaled shakily, "I'm not sure."

Sophia acknowledged Toast's change in mood. He was upset, for some reason. Sophia had a sneaking suspicion that it had something to do with the others working below them.

They both took a large gulp, finishing their drinks. Toast began pouring another two glasses. Sophia noticed this and said in a firm voice, "Mr. Toast. If you keep that up, I may need to charge you." Toast was unsure whether or not she was joking and decided to make that his last serving.

Sophia took a minute to enjoy her drink before talking again. "Are you concerned about your partner?" she asked, trying to figure out why Toast seemed distant.

Toast could have denied the claim. After all, he did not want to seem too dependent on Ghost. However, he saw no point in lying. It would be wise to be truthful.

"Yeah," Toast said clearly, through long heavy breaths.

Sophia decided to reassure the bummed-out Briton. "I'm sure he's fine," she offered as she took another gulp. "After all," she continued, "he is not alone. He had Bryn with him. They're great together. A real pair."

Toast clenched his hands into fists and gritted his teeth at the mention of Bryn. He was in a pure white fury. Any thought that wasn't about how much he hated that inconsiderate cur was ignored. His eyes shut tightly and he produced something close to a growl.

Without opening his eyes, he responded to Sophia bitterly, "Yeah. A perfect pair. They should be partners. Wouldn't that be just _swell_?" He spoke through a clinched jaw. Spittle was occasionally flying out of his sneering mouth and staining his chin.

Sophia stared at Toast, both worried and confused. She didn't know what to say. She reasoned that it would be best to know what was happening. She tried to make herself comfortable on her stool before asking, "Are you okay?"

"What do y- No, _Miss Gumball_ , I'm not _okay_ ," Toast half-yelled. He had meant to end it there, but he kept speaking without realising. "My naive friend is being taken away from me by some random deceiver and he is too dense to notice," He said, opening his eyes and sinking to his knees.

"I-is this about your partner – Ghost?" She asked. She received a blank expression from the infuriated Toast. "Okay, it is."

"I'm scared, Miss Gumball," Toast said, calming down.

Sophia waited for him to continue. She finished her scotch off with a massive gulp.

Toast proceeded, "I'm worried that Ghost may not want me as his partner when this is all done."

"Why's that?" Sophia asked again.

"Really think about it. Ever since Ghost and I arrived here, I have barely gotten the chance to work with him. As soon as… argh… Underhill came into the picture, Ghost has been ignoring me in favour of him. I'm certain that man is actively trying to keep Ghost and me apart."

"Oh… Mr. Toast," Sophia tried to be comforting. She wasn't really sure why; it wasn't her business, nor should it be her problem. Yet, she did not like seeing Toast so depressed, especially after the work he had been doing. "Listen," she ordered him softly, "After what you have figured out over the last hour or so, I think you can handle yourself absolutely fine on your own. In my opinion, if your colleague can't function without the aid of a partner, I say you should let Bryn have him."

Toast was shocked at her advice. In a nutshell, she recommended he stopped working with Ghost and continue his career alone. Now that he thought about it, Toast realised that he had managed to solve a large proportion of the mystery without Ghost's help at all. Perhaps he could work by himself. After all, there were things about his partner that Toast could do without.

Toast remembered the saying Ghost used earlier: 'too many cooks spoil the broth'. Maybe that was correct.

He gave a small smile towards Sophia. "Thank you for the advice, Miss. Gumball," he said as he stretched his back slightly, getting up from his sloughed stupor.

"Please, Mr. Toast," Sophia said warmly, "If Bryn can address me by my first name, you can too."

Toast smiled back at Sophia. He raised a finger and decaled, "Only if you can address me as 'Johnny', as well."

"Deal," Sophia said. The two shook hands on it, sealing their strange agreement.

The two stood up, realising the noticeable passing of time. The room was only illuminated by the lights surrounding the bar.

"Well," Sophia said as she absorbed the sight of the darker room, "I think we've done enough slacking, Johnny. I think we should continue our investigation. What do you think?"

Toast rose up and scampered from behind the bar. "Quite right," he said quickly.

The two made their way out of the billiard room, after successfully doing nothing that was beneficial to the actual case. Regardless, Toast found it very eventful. He had been given a moment to vent of the pent-up anger that had built up and a few glasses of scotch as well.


	15. Part fifteen - A Hidden Controller

**P.I.E – Limey Rivalry (Part fifteen – A Hidden Controller)**

Since the billiard room had been a substantial waste of time, Toast no longer had any guide to work with. Sophia had said that the only marks that seemed out of place were in the two rooms they had previously check. Now, with nowhere specific to go, Toast felt quite aimless.

Sophia was thinking along the same lines. "Do you have a plan now, then?" she asked Toast as they gently meandered through the plain, samey corridors.

After taking a quick moment to consider a course of action, Toast sighed, "Not really. Unless you have any more information?"

Sophia shrugged and looked away, signifying that she did not know anything more than what she had already told him. Toast wasn't really surprised by this at all.

Sophia added, "So we're waiting for your partner and Bryn to get back, then?"

Having no other option close to mind, Toast mutely nodded. Then, he looked over to Sophia in thought. "Unless," he said, examining Sophia's old, tired figure, "we investigate all the rooms we come across."

Toast knew that idea was absurd. That opinion was doubled when Sophia gave him a blank look. The mansion was ginormous and it would take all night to even check half of the rooms. Not to mention, Toast doubted Sophia could handle that much work.

"Actually, Miss– um, Sophia," Toast said, stopping Sophia's sluggish walking, "if you think it will be too exhausting for you to walk with me, you can leave me now."

"And let you get lost again?" Sophia rhetorically asked jokingly.

"Well, no. I just assumed you'd be getting tired by now," Toast defended himself.

"Johnny," Sophia said, "I may be tired. I won't deny that I am. However, I'm just as enveloped in this as you are. Besides, I would like to make sure you don't do anything too brash whilst in my home."

Toast grinned at Sophia's response. She was so different to him, yet shockingly alike. She decided to keep a stiff upper lip to all of this, much like him, even when the stakes get worse.

"So be it," he said playfully.

"So… we're checking every room, then," Sophia asked as she tried to comprehend the thought.

"I guess…" Toast said, his mind pondering different routes of action. He spoke up, after a moment, "Of course, we can't wander around blindly. We'll have to start somewhere rational…" He continued thinking.

Sophia hummed and gently bit the inside of her cheek. "How about we go back to the front room and work up from there?" she asked Toast.

"I suppose that is as good of a plan as any," he said plainly.

The pair changed their aimless objective and turned their attention to the manor's entrance. Of course, Sophia led the way. Toast wasn't sure if he could ever map out the area.

As a force of habit, Toast checked his pocket watch. He and Ghost had spent a considerable length of time there. If he was correct that they had set off to the Gumball Estate at around eight o'clock, then the two of them had been hear throughout the entire day.

It was beginning to get late. This was further proven when Toast – made aware of the quantity of time that had past – peered out of one of the windows in passing. It was becoming glaringly dark outside.

On top of the passing hours, the weather was beginning to look aggressive as well. The clouds had formed a thick concrete barrier, surveying the whole district with an unyielding stare. Minute hazes of fog descended down to the earth. The surrounding shrubbery were moist and the outside air was bone-shatteringly cool. Toast was certain that it was going to rain at any moment. He pinned over that thought. He hoped there wouldn't be another tornado that they had to deal with.

A while later, they had returned to the mansion's large front door and had begun their search. Fair to say, it was a slow process; Sophia stuck by Toast's side while they checked each door in site.

In a typical situation, Ghost and Toast would both be searching simultaneously, whilst still keeping close by. That way, they could search double the space in the same amount of time.

However, with Sophia and Toast infiltrating and leaving each room together, things were taking much longer than usual. Toast couldn't blame her; she had absolutely no expertise in investigating, whatsoever. She was likely following him for protection, Toast thought. He found the notion faintly cute.

Seeing as their monotonous endeavour wasn't being very useful, Toast decided to make conversation. "Are you sure you don't know anything more? Anything at all?" he asked on an absolute whim.

"I keep telling you, Johnny. No," she said, clearly annoyed by his repetitive interrogations.

"S-sorry," Toast muttered, catching on to Sophia's passive aggressiveness, "I just can't shake the feeling that we're missing something important about this place. Something right under our noses – metaphorically speaking, of course. I've felt like there's some critical secret hidden in plain sight ever since I got here. I just need to find it."

"You're going to need a lot of luck to find anything here; it's a massive place," Sophia said, as she glanced out of one of the windows herself, "I haven't even been in every room yet." She continued speaking as they walked. Toast made notes of a few key words, but mostly chose to ignore what she had to say. He thought it may have been rude, but Toast needed the majority of his focus to be on his main task.

A while later, they ended up in the room which contained the stairs down to the basement. They didn't bother to check into the room too thoroughly, because they were confident that the trapdoor was the only other door in that room. Instead, they searched the moderately spacious room idly, using that as a moment to take a break.

Sophia sat down in the same chair she had sat in earlier, before Bryn allowed her to leave. She stared at the basement door with concern, still unnerved by its unnaturally haunting presence.

Toast, on the other hand, unhurriedly strolled around the outside of the room, glancing at the walls and the floor for anything that could be hidden away. The walls had that same annoyingly awful wallpaper that most of the other rooms had, but Toast decided to ignore the unimportant detail. Aside from the wallpaper, he also noticed that there were no paintings in the room. As Toast then took in the entire room, he discovered that – besides the table and chair that Sophia was sitting on – the room was almost bare. Toast found this strange, seeing as all the other rooms seemed to be elegantly decorated, no matter what function the room had.

"Johnny?" Sophia caught Toast's attention, her expression being somewhat troubled.

"Yes, Sophia," Toast replied, worried about the considerably upset face she wore.

"Do you think the other two are okay?" she asked, surprising Toast.

"… I'm not really sure. Why?"

"I… I'd just hate it if I was responsible for what happens to them, whether they get injured or…" she paused and coughed, "I'm sure you know what I mean."

Toast crouched down next to Sophia – since there was only one chair – and smile assumingly. "I'm certain that they can handle themselves. They are professionals, after all. Although I can't speak for Underhill, Ghost and I have survived much worse situations than this. Not just from ghosts, actually. We've actually walked away from several tornadoes, as well."

Sophia thought that over, "You are 'full-time' paranormal investigators, aren't you?"

"Umm, yes. Of course." Toast answered her question with a level of confusion, "Why do you ask that, now?"

"No reason," Sophia looked back to the basement door, "I was just wondering why detectives would also concern themselves with storms. You don't research them, do you?"

"Well… no. Not really," Toast said, looking off to a random wall and rubbing his neck. "Actually, we sort of do. Ghost has a theory that tornadoes are – you know what, I doubt that matters right now." Toast stood up and walked over to another wall, pretending to be hard at work.

"Johnny," Sophia starts speaking again, "I think it's fairly safe to assume that there isn't anything to be found in this room."

Toast huffed, "I know. I'm shocked, honestly. This room is right next to the basement. You'd assume paranormal activity would be substantial here."

"It seems that the basement would be the best place to see anything, and the other two are already down there."

Toast hummed thoughtfully, seemingly disappointed, "I suppose the only worthwhile thing we can do now is wait for them to get back."

"Yeah," Sophia agreed as Toast leaned up against the wall and looked at the trapdoor, mimicking the position he was in hours before.

Becoming bored with the same view of the old door, Toast's gaze shifted around slowly. He glanced up, only to have his sight stolen be the bright light above them. He shut his eyes and waited for his vision to return. He then looked at Sophia, who was leaning on the table with an inattentive look on her face. Toast then looked towards the opening in the wall which avoided the need for a door. Running out of things to look at, he stared at the light switches. They were nothing special and weren't too appealing to look at, but they were the closest thing to unique in the whole room. Toast glanced at the light again, and something made his brow furrow. Something wasn't right.

"Sophia?" Toast asked slowly.

"Yes."

"How many lights are in this room?"

Sophia confusion was present in her response, "One."

"And how many light switches are there on that wall?" he asked as he pointed to the switches that he had previously been looking at.

Sophia inhaled sharply as she understood what Toast was implying. She answered his question, "Two."

"Exactly," Toast said as he moved towards the things. "On top of that, out of the two that are here, only one of them seems to be on." He then turned around to see Sophia's semi-excited – yet semi-scared – expression. He smirked before playfully asking, "Are you curious, Sophia?"

She took a shaky breath before nodding. Toast took this as a go-ahead and flipped the switch. Nothing happened: nothing exploded, no secret passageway opened up, and a light didn't even seem to turn on.

Toast flipped the switch off, then on again. Then he began flipping the other switch on and off, causing the light above them to flicker. He desperately tried flicking both switches at random times, yet nothing seemed to be happening.

When Sophia gasped, it brought Toast's attention to what she was looking at. She was staring at one of the walls. Thanks to the light above being off, encasing the room in almost complete darkness, the two could easily make out the glowing gold outline of a rectangle. That rectangle was perfectly door-shaped. Upon Toast's examination, he was made aware that a light was on behind the wallpaper.

"Oh my god," Sophia gasped, rushing over to the illumination, "there's a door hidden behind here, isn't there?"

"There would seem to be," Toast said, "but I'm more concerned about what's behind _that_ door."

Fishing around his pocket, he took a small scalpel out – with a cover over the blade.

"You wouldn't mind if I cut through the wallpaper, would you?" Toast asked Sophia.

"Of course not. I never really cared for that style, anyway."

"Neither do I."

Cutting through with ease, Toast ripped the rest away. Sure enough, there was an old, wooden door with no handle. Regardless of that, the door was so ancient, the wood was rotting and fragile. With a few hard pulls, Toast broke the door open.

The room that Toast was expecting to see was not there. Instead, it was more of a closet, filled with buttons. The largest of which was a harmless looking red button with the words 'OPEN ALL' on it.

Both Toast and Sophia were surprised. None of them spoke, initially, until Toast awkwardly said, "I'm not sure whether to be satisfied or disappointed."

"I'm both," Sophia offered.

There was another long moment of silence.

Toast spoke up again, "Is it just me, or do you really want to press them?"

Sophia looked up at him as if he was the dumbest person ever, "Just you."

They continued to stare, not knowing what to do.

Eventually, Sophia turned away and held herself. She spoke quickly, "Okay, I am actually a little curious about the buttons, but I'm not sure if it would be wise."

Toast continued to stare at the largest button, trembling. The intense desire to know what 'OPEN ALL' meant was too much for him to ignore.

"Sophia, I really want to press the button," Toast said in a whiny voice.

"Johnny, don't." She warned.

"Please. I can't take this torment."

"You don't know what it'll do."

"It could be helpful."

"It could blow up the house or fill it with toxic gas."

"It's labelled 'open all'. Why would a button that says that blow up the house?"

Sophia paused and looked down at the floor in thought. A moment later, she turned away from Toast, held herself tighter in discomfort and closed her eyes. "Alright, you can press it, but whatever happens is your fault."

"Excellent," Toast cheered. His finger swooped down and vigorously pressed the button down.

A second later, the entire room was filled with loud – yet muffled – noise. It sounded like stone grinding against stone. The floor below them vibrated profusely. Both Toast and Sophia froze in place as they waited for whatever was happening to be over.

A long few moments later, the sensation ceased and the two were still petrified like scared statues. Their movements afterward were as equally slow and shaky.

Sophia was the first to speak, "M-my word, that was scary."

Toast nodded and said, "What even happened, anyway?"

"I don't have a clue, but whatever happened, it seemed to be below us."

Toast murmured, "In the basement, then."

"Yes. It would be," Sophia said. She suddenly straitened up, as did Toast, "Where Bryn and Mr. Ghost are."

Toast immediately grabbed the walkie-talkie that was attacked to his trousers and spoke into it, "Sir? Are you receiving me‽" Only crackling was heard. "Sir, are you there‽" Upon hearing more crackling, Johnny lost his patients and yelled at the device, "Sir!"

Sophia looked at Toast with a sorrowful expression. She offered, "He could be out of range."

Lowering the walkie-talkie, Toast gave off a long unsteady sigh. For the first time in such a long time, Toast felt genuinely scared. Of course, he had been spooked and surprised countless times before now, but the thought that he and Ghost would make it too the next day always prevented him from being actually scared. Now, not only was he worried that his partner might be gone, but he was mortified to think that he was the one who killed him.

Letting another sigh out, Toast responded to Sophia, "I hope so," before they left the room, deciding not to take any other chances with the hidden closet.


	16. Part sixteen - An Amateur Ablution

**P.I.E – Limey Rivalry (Part sixteen – An Amateur Ablution)**

Down in the harrowing, unpredictable depths of the Gumball Family Estate's basement, the young paranormal investigator: Johnny Ghost – along with the charming supernatural examiner: Bryn Underhill – were having an absolute field day. Once all of the hidden doors had been opened and every minuet light had been switched on – for reasons still unknown for the two, they had been heavily checking all the rooms in sight and they weren't leaving any paper or draws unchecked.

As for the actual things they were finding, they were less than successful. Most of them were old newspapers, that documented the rise and fall of the company, or ancient letters, discussing business or other things. Beyond that, most of the rooms were empty.

Since there was sufficient lighting, the two decided that they didn't need to stick next to each other, so they split up. Logically, they covered more area this way.

Ghost had just finished searching through a small chest of draws, which were all cripplingly bare, when he let out a frustrated sigh. He had no idea just how big this basement actually was, but based around how long they had spent travelling down just two of its corridors, it must have been absolutely massive. It should be at least the area of the estate, Ghost pondered.

Over in another room, Ghost just barely heard Bryn yell, "Ghost! I think I've found something that fits our interests quite nicely!"

Ghost turned to the direction that he had Bryn's voice come from and smiled faintly. Of course Bryn would find something first, Ghost thought, It's a good thing we're not competing.

Briskly trotting to the exit of the room he was in, Ghost peered down the corridor. Bryn was not there.

"Where are you?" Ghost called out.

"I'm in one of the rooms near you. Believe me, you can't miss this one," Bryn answered. His voice still sounded far away.

"Fine," Ghost said before he began walking down the corridor and checking each room.

Granted, it didn't take him long to find a certain room that did look shockingly different than the other ones. An open door revealed another corridor, however this one wasn't endlessly long. The walls were marked with scratches. They weren't like the three marks that they'd been finding, either. They were legitimate marks left by desperate fingernails, and Ghost hazard a guess by assuming those belonged to people trying to escape.

Ghost could feel a weak paranormal presence emanating down the corridor. Years of experience had given him the ability to understand the certain aura of supernatural entities, which helped him out immensely.

He continued down the small passageway until he entered a room. There were no electric lights in this part, so it was entirely dark. Luckily, Bryn was using his flashlight to light the area. Well, one particular area. One spot on the floor, at the centre of the room.

Ghost looked at the lit-up circle and nervously offered, "Huh," before letting silence fill the dark room again.

Within the circular glow of Bryn's flashlight was a massive pentagram, painted onto the stone floor.

"Indeed, Ghost," Bryn said, hearing his 'huh', "It seems The Gumball Family practised in the occult."

Ghost walked over to the pentagram and managed to stop his movement before he knocked over a candle that he could only faintly see. He crouched down to examine the stick of wax, it seemed to have been used, as it had melted halfway down. It was also a white candle, which Ghost found confusing; you shouldn't use white candles when summoning or casting anything relating to the unholy; white indicates purity.

"That would explain why there's a ghost haunting this place," Ghost said as he picked some wax off the old candle and placed it in a small bag in case they needed evidence.

"I agree," Bryn said before he turned his flashlight over the rest of the room, finding no piece of furniture or way out. He did however spot many pieces of paper littered around with no organisation. It was as if a great gust of air had scattered them without a care.

"What are you thinking, Ghost," Bryn spoke up as he absentmindedly walked over to a certain pile of old, flimsy sheets, "a sacrifice, or a summoning?"

Ghost thought for a moment. He was a little out of his depth; he had always dealt with ghosts and creatures from other dimensions, not demons or satanic rituals.

"Well," he said uncertainly, scanning over the pentagram and trying to work out every detail, "I guess, thanks to the white candles and the fact that the pentagram is the wrong way up, I doubt any summoning would've worked. Also, since the room still has traces of blood around and I saw fingernail marks on the walls of the corridor, I assume it was a sacrifice."

Bryn turned to Ghost with an unfitting smile for the current surroundings. "Excellent observation," Bryn congratulated before organising the sheets into a few particular groups, "plus, look at these."

Ghost joined Bryn and searched over his shoulder at the paper. The room was so poorly lit, that he could not make out anything. However, Bryn had no problem reading it.

"According to these, our dear Mr. Alexander had quite the following," he passed the papers to Ghost.

With the right amount of concentration and the proper lighting, Ghost managed to make out a few details. The first page he looked over seemed to be an identification sheet of some sort. On the corner of the page was a profile picture of someone Ghost didn't recognise. As for the rest, it gave semi-random information about the person. Ghost immediately looked over the sheet once again to spot any sort of name. It read 'Trevor Greene', in the type of writing clearly generated by a typewriter.

He looked at the second page and found a near-identical sheet, only the name of the person was 'Vicky Holloway' and the profile image instead showed a youngish woman with chestnut hair, instead of Trevor's thick black locks.

Ghost quickly scanned the rest of the pile to confirm that they were all the same. There were about fifteen of these sheets. They all had evidence of age, considering their fragile feel and faded look.

Meanwhile, a smaller scrap of paper caught Bryn's eye. He slowly made his way toward it and picked it up. A simple smile appeared upon his lips as he softly cooed, "It appears he was quite the people-person."

He showed Ghost the thing he had salvaged: a small image of all the fifteen people from the papers that Ghost was holding, plus a few others. None of them were smiling, which – given the time period this was likely from – really wasn't shocking; the exposure time for cameras back then were astonishingly long and to keep the same fake smile for such a time would be unbearable. Some were dressed in suits and fancy dresses, whilst others were in more normal attire. There seems to be some sort of celebration going on, within the image. They were standing outside Gumball Manor. Ghost mused over how unbelievably different, yet still similar, it looked.

Something else about the picture was noticeable. There were the fifteen people that Ghost had information about and Alexander right in the middle, but there was one more person in the image. That person was a stocky male standing next to Alexander. He didn't seem to hold himself as well as the others and his features were slightly blurred, thanks to the exposure time. The only things Ghost could really make out about him was that he was wearing a shirt and a waistcoat, both of which were of dark hues, and his hair went down to his shoulders.

"You seem enthralled," Bryn said, a relaxed, sleepy look in his eyes.

"You could say that," Ghost replied, rubbing his eyes as a headache was swiftly growing, "I think we should check somewhere else. We've got enough information here."

Eyebrows raised in mild surprised, Bryn asked, "Are you sure? This is some of the most damming evidence we have so far."

Ghost huffed, "Yeah... But this place is giving me a bad feeling. I think we should try somewhere else now and could come back later if we need to."

Bryn spared a glance at the painted pentagram before shrugging.

"If you say so," he said, "we have got a lot of rooms to cover anyway. But, if needs be, we will be coming back here later on."

"Right," Ghost said as he trotted out as quickly as he could.

Bryn followed behind with his hands resting on the back of his head. Before leaving into the small corridor, he gave a final look at the sacrificial circle. His lips parted once again, as he smiled disdainfully, and began walking again.

"Amateurs."


	17. Part seventeen - An Abnormal Sensation

**P.I.E – Limey Rivalry (Part seventeen – An Abnormal Sensation)**

A horrid grim feeling was residing within Toast's mouth. It felt dry and noxious, as if he was about to regurgitate. It was a brilliant combo to the tight feeling of his stomach. There was no doubt: Toast felt terrible.

The feeling had been a constant since he pressed the button. More specifically, since he realised that he could have killed his best friend. Toast coughed and tried to push back the thought, trying instead to focus on his and Sophia's task at hand.

Once they left, the two immediately began to search the entire estate from metaphorical head-to-toe in case there was anything else amiss, whether it be for the best or the worst. In actuality, it was more like from toe-to-head, considering they started at the ground floor and worked their way up. They had made in onto the first floor (or the second floor, since you're likely American), without finding anything amiss.

The same green wallpaper. The same corridors. The same paranormal stench strolling its way through Johnny's senses. The same ugly portrai– wait.

Toast desisted from his stroll and focused all his effort on his detection abilities. Sophia was confused as to why he had suddenly paused.

"Johnny, are you all right?" she asked, gaining a smidge of concern when she saw Toast's wide eyes and vacant expression.

He replied slowly, slightly tilting his head up, "I can detect something nearby. It's a little hard to clarify where it's coming from, though…"

"Oh. What do we do?" Sophia asked, starting to feel anxious. She began to look around the corridor for anything out of the ordinary.

"I think we should keep walking. I have a hunch that the sensation is somewhere ahead of us. We might be able to track it down, if we find the most concentrated source."

Sophia gulped and looked in the direction which they were initially going in anyway. Suddenly, that prospect seemed so much harder to do than it had been not more than a few moments ago.

"Understood, Johnny," she said, slowly side-stepping her way closer to Toast, "I'm right behind you."

Toast could tell that Sophia was nervous. It made him uncomfortable: it was like he was forcing her into this. "Sophia, if you don't feel you can take this, please don't assume you need to tag along with me. You can go back to your room, if you want."

Looking into his pitying face, Sophia's expression hardened. "Johnny, I had thought that I made this clear. I am not going to hide away and leave everything to you. I could be as risk, you may need help," she continued speaking in a firm voice, before a worried smirk painted her face, "and my bedroom is actually down that way, anyway."

She seemed to made her case, in Toast's opinion. "Right. Onwards and upwards, then."

They slowly began edging down the corridor. The tension was so apparent, one could need to cut their way through it with a machete.

As the two continued to follow Toast's 'paranormal nose', it compelled them through a few more corridors before it began to overwhelm Toast with its strength. There was no debate that there was abnormal activity going on.

Toast stopped at a seemingly normal part of the corridor. "Here!" Toast groaned loudly, thanks to the headache he was getting. He rested his hand against the wall next to him. That was where the sensation was coming from.

"It must be on the other side," Toast exclaimed to Sophia, "I need something to break through."

"You're going to break the wall down," Sophia inquired, confused as to why Toast could not try to find another entrance."

"We don't have time to waste. It's best to try and break through immediately instead of leaving to find another way. Do you have anything?"

"I don't think so, Toast. We could try getting something from the garage or the shed, but that would take too long."

"Curses. Do you think you could run and get something while I make sure that the ghost does not move?"

"Are you ser– Fine," She agreed, indignantly, before perking up, "Actually, I think I have the perfect thing."

Sophia ran off as fast as an aged woman could. It was not too fast.

Toast stared at the wall, but he was looking straight through it. He was focusing on the presence behind the wall.

"You think you're safe in there," Toast teased, "but that safe haven of yours won't be too secure for long."

He wasn't even sure that the entity could hear him, but Toast needed to let off some antagonism.

"I assure you, Alexander Gumball, you are not safe."


	18. Part eighteen - A Characterful Study

**P.I.E – Limey Rivalry (Part eighteen – A Characterful Study)**

If time had been absolutely apparent to Ghost, his curiosity would have been eased. It had certainly felt like hours, but there was no way of knowing in the pitch-black environment of the basement. He should've started carrying a watch. Why wasn't he? Perhaps it was because he would put his faith in Toast and his pocket watch, most of the time. Without him, he had nothing to alert him. He pondered over what to do, before shrugging and deciding to do the obvious thing.

"Hey, Bryn," Ghost called to the man behind him.

He had been fairly quiet over the last while. If they hadn't have got used to the basement's eerie quality, Ghost would have found the silence surrounding them to be rather disquieting and uncomfortable. Thankfully, Ghost had grown past any need to worry. Of course, they still were not sure if the ghost that they had come across was capable of affecting things in the physical realm yet, but they hadn't felt any aura of the paranormal and their detectors were steady. The ghost must have been leaving them be, for the time being.

"You called," Bryn answered back, coming out of his trance-like stupor.

"Ugh…" Ghost stammered for a moment. What did he want, again? _Oh, right._ "Do you know the time?"

"You have no watch?" he asked, as if it was weird to be lacking one.

"Well, no, not really," Ghost answered, feeling strangely embarrassed. It was the first time anyone had been so befuddled by his absence of simple time-telling gadgets. "Toast usually tells me the time, whenever I ask. He's good at time managing."

Ghost thought back to this morning. That was the first one in a long time when he had awoken and readied himself long before Toast. In their typical routine, Toast would make sure they would be on time for everything: getting up; getting ready; taking breaks throughout the day for teas and coffee; going to bed at a suitable time, so they could be alert and ready by the next; etc. He was quite maternal, in that regard. Ghost really didn't give him enough credit.

Ghost sighed at the thought. The thought that Toast might feel used by him.

The release of breath caught Bryn's attention. "Penny for your thoughts," he asked with half-interest, his mind still sorting through information at the back of his brain.

"Oh. It's nothing, Bryn. I was just thinking." Ghost did not really want to start expressing his feelings at that moment.

However, Bryn continued. "It's about that partner of yours, is it not?"

"What makes you so sure?" Ghost turns his head to look back at the man.

"I put two and two together: you mention that you depend on him for your time-keeping, then you trail off and then sigh out of the blue," he smirks and looks straight into Ghost's wide eyes, "If I had to guess, I would say that you feel you neglect him for the most part."

Ghost's breathing hitched. He was aware that Bryn would have been intelligent and deductive; his choice of job would have been obvious of that. He did not know that he was that good. He had found out Ghost's exact thought process with no other evidence than a sigh.

It was honestly quite unnerving, but astonishing at the same time. Ghost wondered what he must have been like as a child. When he was a child, he certainly had the confidence, but he never thought of himself as smart. He had certainly learnt quite a bit as the years went by, of course, but his youthful self was leagues below some others. He pondered whether Bryn had the same sort of story, or he was some child prodigy back in his past.

While Ghost was lost in his thoughts, Bryn casually checked one of his arms. "Eighteen hundred hours, give or take."

"What?" Ghost asked, brought back to the real world again.

"The time that you asked for," Bryn said with a small levity at Ghost's cute perplexed expression, "it is around eighteen hundred hours, give or take a few minutes."

"Wait, so six o'clock," Ghost asked.

"Give or take a few minutes," Bryn correctionally added.

"Woah. So we've been in here for around five hours. No wonder I feel to hungry."

Bryn peered into space again as he thought "True, we should probably get back to the ground level soon. We haven't received any word from anyone above, either. We should probably give them a report of our status."

"Right," Ghost said, getting the walkie-talkie out of his hoodie pocket.

After a moment or two, Ghost's expression descended from apt, to irritated, to confused, and then to worried.

Bryn, growing aware of his difficulty, spoke up, "Well, having problems, Ghost?"

"It's not working," Ghost stated with depravity.

"Now, now, it is not the end of the world, because we cannot contact our friends. We will just have to find them later," Bryn attempted to sooth Ghost as if he were a child while the phone lines were down.

"But Bryn, paranormal entities are known to affect certain pieces of technology when it suits their needs. What if the ghost has plans for us?"

"Granted, that is true, but I'm sure we're fine. It could have malfunctioned those devices when we detected its presence earlier at the dungeon. Many young spirits panic when approached and it could have been a fear response," Bryn rattled on, giving occasional hand gestures as if it were a casual conversation to have, "Even if it is actually planning something for us, as professional hunters of the supernatural, we should really be relying on it to come to us."

"Yeah, I guess you're right," Ghost responded, seeing Bryn's point. Ghost looked back at him and smiled weakly, "You're amazingly calm about all this. You know that, right?"

Bryn winked and shrugged with a bleary smile on his face, "I try, Ghost. I t–"

 _ **BEEB-BEEP BEEB-BEEP BEEB-BEEP BEEB-BEEP BEEB-BEEP  
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA**_

Ghost and Bryn immediately cut themselves off and looked around in alarm. Those were the alarms of their detectors picking up a signal of a paranormal presence. It had been so long, they had almost forgot that was a possibility.

Ghost gulped and peered around the corridor. He would not say he was scared. No, far from it, in fact. However, the lack of any information about this ghost was worth caution: they weren't sure if it was strong enough to affect the physical world, could be seen, could possess, could or would kill, etc. Quite frankly, Ghost was so unprepared, he cursed himself for diving into this situation so quickly. He had no idea what to do.

Bryn, on the other hand, was absolutely unreadable. After the first initial shock caused by the detectors, his expression had relaxed into a strange concoction of everything, resulting in undecipherability. Ghost could tell, however, that his brain was working at top speed. His eyes slightly fluttered about, as if looking at information that wasn't there. Then, out of the blue, his face contorted into a macabre smile, his eyes lighting up like fire and a giddy giggling escaped him.

"Come on, Ghost," he said while still smiling, his lips remaining perfectly in place, "it is time we met this entity."

"Wait," Ghost spoke up, "how are you sure where it is? What if it escapes again, like last time?"

Bryn looked back at Ghost with his usual guise, smiling innocently, "I can not be entirely sure where it is, but I can certainly sense something somewhere ahead of us. If we are quick enough, we can find that something before it vanishes,"

Just like that, Bryn started to lightly jog down the corridors, letting the strength of the sensation guide him.

Ghost decided to follow, but was nowhere near as fast as Bryn, despite running at his best. It also became apparent that the corridors started introducing crossroads and dead ends. Ghost ran into several and suddenly became lost.

"For goodness sake! Who designed this place‽" Ghost called upward while falling to his knees as he once again ran into another dead end.

"Bingo!" Ghost heard Bryn yell out from afar, "Ghost, I have found a staircase."

Ghost lifted his head up, before calling out to where he assumed Bryn's voice emanated from, "A staircase? Down here?"

"Yes, I am looking at it right now," Bryn yelled back, "See for yourself. Where are you anyway?"

Ghost arose, a little embarrassed by his defeated outburst that moment ago, "Umm… Just around the corner… I think. I'll be there now."

It took around half a minute of unsure wondering before Ghost finally found the grey clothed Brit staring up at what Ghost assumed to be the stairway.

Indeed, there was a stairway. It was one of those corkscrew ones. It was made of metal and looked slightly rusting in some areas. As Ghost examined it himself, he looked upward. It was completely black up above. No lightly must be in there then. It made Ghost shiver and take a step back, thinking about various crawlies and nasties could be in that gloom.

"Right," Bryn clapped his hands together and rubbed them excitedly, "Who should take the lead: you or I?"

Ghost did not even need to think about that, "You."

"So be it," he answered and began to make his way up the stairs.

Occasional screeches and groans from the old thing had to make Ghost cover his ears and cringe away from it. It was probably to do with Bryn's enthusiastic movements. Ghost made a note to himself: _be careful going up the stairs_.

Once Bryn was far enough for the noises to soften, Ghost began his ascend. It was much quieter, thanks to his well-placed footing. Eventually he was in complete darkness once again.

As he climbed, he voicelessly prayed for nothing creepy to happen. He could do ghosts. He could do interdimensional Pokémon. He could not do spiders. He could certainly not do birds. Ghost then began to contemplate the unlikelihood of any type of fowl finding their way into a basement this far down. Thanks to the overthinking of birds – which is a creature that is highly feared by him, Ghost then began to hyperventilate and stopped to take a moment.

"Ghost," Bryn called down, "Are you well?"

"Yeah, sorry," Ghost replied, catching his breath back, "I was just thinking of birds and… ugh, got distracted."

"Oh," Bryn said, genuinely confused, "Well, good. As long as you are all right, I will continue."

"Got it."

Ghost listened to Bryn's metallic footsteps grow fainter as he was left in the darkness. He took another moment or so, before he began to continue himself.

As he did that, he heard Bryn call back down again, "I think I have reached the destination. It appears to be a trap door."

"Well, open up and let's see where we are," Ghost called back up to him.

Bryn answered back, in a strained way, "It is a little difficult. It is a bit heavy. I think it may hag a rug over it, judging by the weight."

After a moment, Ghost heard the door being opened and the sound of a sliding rug. _Right again_ , Ghost thought jovially before making his way up to the exit.

Once up there, he clambered through the comfortably large open doorway and examined their new environment.

It was a study. Quite an archaic one, at that. The walls were covered in a red wallpaper that had faded over the years of uncheck. There were certain patterns on the wall paper, in a darker shade of red that too had faded, but the contrast was still noticeable. The room was being lit by candles within glass boxes mounted on the walls. They gave little light, but enough to make out most. There were two desks present, both of which were coated with old papers and writing utensils. The flooring was hardwood, but most of the flooring was covered with the rug that was blocking the trapdoor. The rug itself was also red in colour, with a wonderful image made up of black and cream colours. It was an abstract pattern, but it reminded Ghost of the anatomy classes he used to have, where he would be shown videos of animals being cut open and displayed. Ghost caught his muscles twitching around his lips, getting a tiny smile from him before he ran his hand down his face and turned his attention to Bryn.

"Well this is a find," Ghost said, trying to be cool about it.

Bryn did not turn back to him, but just gave a "mm" implying that he heard Ghost. He was busy examining everything he could about the room, careful not to touch anything until he absolutely had to. Most of the paper consisted of written documents. The opened envelopes dotted around the area also implied that some of them were received letters as well. The calligraphy seemed to be written down the same as the last documents they came across, so they were written by the same person. As well as that, they were written by old fountain pens and no current writing utensils were present in the room, meaning that the room had not been used as a study for at least eighty to one hundred years. Since none of the papers had been discarded, that must have meant that they were important. The rug was covering the trapdoor, so it was likely meant to be a secret, possibly a way to enter the basement without anyone else's knowledge. The lack of any personal item in the room implied that it was not a normal study or leisure room, or the occupant did not have any emotional attachments. The mess could mean a multitude of things: the occupant was fairly unorganised; he had to hurry the last time he used the room and never tidied up in time; or he was looking for something very specific. The lack of any open drawers and only documents being present would mean that, if the latter explanation were to be true, the thing being looked for would not have been a jewel or any fiat-valued item, but was something that consisted on one of these documents. Perhaps a piece of information, a contract, a check, etc.

Ghost watched Bryn slowly meander his way around the study. His posture had shifted into something strange: his back was hunched over, bringing his head closer to the things he was spying; his hands were locked behind his back instead of in his pockets where he would typically rest them; and strangest of all, he was walking on his toes. The behaviour reminded Ghost of a large bird. He did not intend to probe Bryn about it however. It was likely something he did when he searched, perhaps to concentrate. Nothing was strange enough to call out on.

Once Bryn gave the room a full once over, his stupor straightened and his hands joined again in a clap before going down into his pockets again, "Right, Ghost. I have sussed my way around the area. Do you want to give it a once over before we go tampering evidence?"

Ghost considered the question. Though it would be useful for him to see everything beforehand, he trusted that Bryn had searched everything and he could not really add much. That made Ghost pause. He really did trust Bryn as if he was a dear friend at this point. The thought of him lying had not been registered by Ghost, but he was better safe than sorry.

"I think I'll check," Ghost said.

"Understood, take your time," Bryn said, not seeming to care. He just went to the wall where the trapdoor was and leaned against in with his hands. "This place is saturated in phantom energy," he blurted out, looking at the documents on one of the desks, "If there was any place our prey has been hiding, this would certainly be it."

"Do you think Miss Gumball knows about this place?" Ghost asked while he awkwardly tried to find some useful evidence.

"Sophia?" Bryn opined, "I doubt it. If she was not able to go into the basement because her instincts repelled her, I am positive she would not want to go within a square decimetre of this place."

"Right," Ghost said in jest, while continuing to look around the study. He could not find anything too noteworthy: no photos, no newspaper clippings stuck to the walls, no blood on the ceiling, not even any indication who this study belonged to. He would have begun reading the documents, but they were all piled on top of one another and he did not want to tamper with evidence. He wanted to make sure Bryn knew when they could scavenge.

"Out of curiosity," Ghost spoke up, "what things did you discover when you walked through?"

Bryn gave an unreadable frowned expression, before sniffing and reciting everything he saw or hypothesised when he did his round: the calligraphy, the pens, the rug, the mess and the possible reasons for it, etc.

If Ghost was astonished by Bryn's uncanny ability to read his thoughts before, he was positively bewildered by his ability as a detector now. It had been no more than fifteen seconds of scanning, give or take, and he had not taken his eyes off the desks. What other shocking revelations and connotations could have been found around the rest of the room. Ghost looked at him in awe. He really was a modern Sherlock Holmes.

Bryn's eyes suddenly went from half-shut, to full and concerned once he gave his full attention to the rest of the room. More specifically, a certain detail in certain areas.

"Ghost," Bryn quietly verbalised, in a tone that Ghost had never heard from him before. It sounded worried, which made Ghost's hairs stand up.

"Yeah," he answered meekly.

"By my estimations, this room has been abandoned for about – let's say – eighty years or more."

"Uh-huh."

"So," Bryn rose a slender finger to one of the lights on the wall, "how can any of these candles still be lit?"

* _ **THUMP***_

The epiphany was cut short, as a sudden thud was heard and all the candles flickered. Ghost tried not to scream, while Bryn stayed in the exact same position, trying to locate the source of the noise.

 _ ***THRUCK***_

There came another sound, appearing to be a mix of both a thud like before and a crack. The candles flickered again and almost went out.

Bryn's attention was drawn to the door of the room. Those are where the noises were coming from. It was also where Ghost was. Bryn made his way over in a flurry, grabbing Ghost and pulling him back in a protective embrace.

 _ ***TYACK GLOPP-E***_

Another noise plus the sound of falling wood was heard. All the candles had gone out, leaving the two men in the most terrifyingly uncomfortable situation. Their hearts were racing. Ghost's eyes were wide. Bryn's hold on Ghost tightening.

 _ ***K-VROON***_

The door was kicked open. Bright, white light filled the room, almost blinding the men. Once they were adjusted enough to see, they were met with the silhouette of a figure carrying a large axe.

"Ahhhhhh," Ghost took that as a good opportunity to scream at the top of his lungs, causing Bryn to hiss at the damage done to his ears.

"Aghhhhh," the figure screamed back and held his arms protectively over his face.

The movement from the figure just caused Ghost to scream again, but he stopped once he realised how similar the figure's scream was.

" _Sir_ , what on Earth was that about‽" Toast yelled, lowering his hands down, obviously coming to the same conclusions as Ghost.

Once Toast had lowered his arms and he got a good look at the two of them, who – by the way – were still embraced, his right eye twitched slightly.

"And what on Earth is happening in here?" he asked through clenched teeth, his voice venomous.

"In all fairness, Toast," Bryn spoke up, sending his head down to rest on Ghost's head, "We may not be in the most professional of positions right now, but you're not doing yourself any favours."

Toast sneered, "What are you talking about?" he asked, only a few seconds away from using the axe for more than just busting through a door.

"You use _an axe_ to break through a door of a large establishment, with horrified people on the other side, and you – Mr _Johnny_ Toast – do not make a reference to _The Shining_ : it's actually rather appalling to be honest."

"Are you serious?" Toast fumed, his eyes lit with unforgiving fury.

"Yeah, Toast," Ghost spoke up, "that opportunity was pretty much gift-wrapped for you."

"Don't you start defending him," Toast said, his attention being drawn to Ghost.

"Now, now, Toast," Bryn releases Ghost and casually places his hands in his pockets like nothing happened, "I know you partner may have scared you, but there is no need to be in a temper tantrum."

"Wha? How dare you?"

"Toast, please calm down."

" _Sir_ , do you really expect me to stand for this."

"Well, I don't know."

"Believe me, Toast. Everything I say is only in jest."

"Shut up, Underhill."

"Woah, Toast! Please, there's no need to that."

On the other side of the door, where Toast had been previously, Sophia leaned against the wall facing the door. She was pinching the bridge of her nose in irritation, as she listened to the ruckus that these supposed men were creating. She took a breath and looked down to her right, in order to distract herself from the loud squabbling just next to her.

"If they don't get their act together," she thought aloud to herself, "a ghost is going to be the least of their worries."


End file.
